If I didn’t get myself in to all sorts of scrapes with men you lot wouldn’t bother to read my blog would you? So we all knew last night when I tweeted I was in a cab on the way to see The Arab that there would be a story.
It was going so well at the start, so how by 1am was I contemplating scraping the stiletto heel of my £400 Missoni shoes down the bonnet of his Audi?
I got to his house – and by ‘house’ I mean a shag pad attached to a larger house, probably inhabited by his parents. Oh and there was a maid, in uniform, that brought ice from the main house. I walked in and realised his friend was still there. That was awkward as the friend obviously had no idea I was going to turn up. So I made an effort to chat to him. The Arab revealed child-like attention seeking behaviors and when his friend went to the bathroom The Arab leaned over, told me I was beautiful and kissed me. One of those tentative, light kisses as if testing the water followed by hand in hair proper snogging. I leapt on to cloud nine and stayed there for the next hour.
When his friend left we sat on the sofa together listening to music and of course more kissing. Then someone must have hit fast forward on the disaster movie that is my life…
Next thing I know I’m being scooped up off the sofa, carried to a sunken bed behind a partition wall and laid on the edge. He then de-robed quicker than a man whose pants are on fire and dived in to bed. Within seconds he is breaking the kiss to push my head downwards. This is rude. I like giving head, and I will get there, but on my terms!
About 10 minutes later after refusing to take my pants off he’s asleep. We dozed for a bit and after more fooling around I lost my knickers, dignity and mind! I found the pants about 5 minutes later.
Once done he went to the bathroom, where I am convinced he was hosing himself down, and then sat on the sofa smoking. I was sat naked on his end wondering what the fuck had gone on. So I tried to call a cab.
Kuwait being a dry country there’s not much call for cabs at 1am. I tried three firms and no one picked up. He starts muttering that he had brunch with his family at 10am and I can’t be there, that the neighbors will see me leave if I stay blah blah. I suggested he drive me back at 6am and he said he couldn’t as he was drunk. Lightweight.
Thankfully a driver called me back and the cavalry arrived. The Arab had passed out and I crept out to wait outside. If any neighbors saw me then that’s his lookout. As my drivers all know me there were no words needed and I was taken home in silence suppressing angry tears.
The next morning I’m not bothered. He showed his true colours and I’m quite thankful. Wouldn’t it be worse to think he was the gentlemen he’d like to believe he is and swallow the line about me being his princess? (true story). I could waste days/weeks pining for someone that actually just wants to get his rocks off. And quickly at that.
And hey, the 14 month drought is over so I don’t need to get a cat just yet. I really am a sparkly bundle of wanton sex goddess!