Daisy

Booty Call

When I travelled America the time I didn't spend with my cowboy husband was spent with a boy called Brendan. Brendan was six foot two, Brendan has a body to die for, Brendan carried my backpack, Brendan cracked the best jokes, Brendan was also a womanising fuckwit, but for a few weeks he was my womanising fuckwit so I didn't care. The time we didn't spend laughing we spent fighting. From the east to the west coasts or America. I called him a user, a flirt and a directionless twat. He called me a spoilt, pretentious blonde who was up my own ass. I think we were both probably quite right. When we weren't flighting or shouting then we would usually be in bed.

It was explosive.

After three weeks I waved him off at LAX as he headed to Austalia. I didn't cry, in fact - I didn't mind saying goodbye (I was exhausted!). What we had had together was simply a chemical reaction when we get too close to each other. In short, I fancied him rotten. Then I started going out with Jk. Jk was the anti-Brendan, kind, sweet, sensitive and as you know he broke my heart. Brendan is no heart-breaker (although he'd so like to be)  because my heart has never been involved. In short, Brendan was the worlds best holiday fling.

Oh, get to the point Daisy!!

Last night I was sitting in the little-white-bar by the sea with Tree and my phone bleeped.

Brendan: Hello sexy, long time no see - want to meet up?

Daisy: I'm in Spain babe.

Brendan: When are you back in London? I really want to see you....

Daisy: Aren't you married or a father yet?

Brendan: Not even close... but I am a policeman

Daisy: Oh my god.

Brendan: Yep. When are you back? I want to show you my uniform.

Now, that is what I call timing.

The year of the Grown-Up (TM)? Oh, give me a break.

17.7.04 18:22