A Breif Romantic Encounter in the English Countryside

This post was supposed to be about my weekend in the English countryside. It was supposed to provide a portrait of picturesque rural life. It was supposed to be about rolling hills and sheep. It was supposed to be about the quaint village and the quirky village people. It was supposed to be about the Cricket game and the afternoon tea and the after Cricket pints and party. It was supposed to be about the Sunday walk through the hills to the charming local pub where we had a Sunday roast in the garden. It was supposed to be about the fresh countryside air and the cool autumn weather.

All weekend I planned this post. I took pictures to include. I talked to the villagers and found out about their lives. I mentally noted interesting observations in anticipation of telling you all about it. And as I sit here at my computer ready to begin, I realize that post I was planning all weekend, is not the post I'm going to write.

And while the lovely British countryside will certainly serve as a romantic backdrop, I apologize that this post will not be about the rolling hills, the sheep, the Cricket, the pub, the villagers, the fresh air, nor will it be about the crisp autumn weather.

This post will be about a boy.

This weekend I feel in love and then lost in just 24 hours. 

But let me rewind and start at the beginning with Friday evening when M (of my favorite couple M and T) showed up at my apartment with French guy CC - a friend from our China days. Then Sexy Single friend A and her friend showed up and we did what we usually do at my apartment - have some pre party drinks, listen to music and get in the mood to go out!

CC was only in town for the weekend, so we were determined to show him the best England had to offer. The plan was to head out on the town  Friday night and then get up early on Saturday and head out to T's family village 2 hours outside of London where they were having the annual Cricket Game (I had attended last year and it was so much fun, I had begged to be invited back). So, on Friday night we headed to Kensington Roof Gardens and got our groove on, stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning.

Saturday morning came way too early and in a cruel manner with a relentless pounding headache and a nauseous stomach and an instant regret for that damn shot of tequila I had done (say nothing of the vodka, gin, wine - although my bets are still on the tequila).

Not even a Bloody Mary and a full English breakfast helped to improve my condition. In fact, as I struggled to keep the meal down, I came to the unfortunate conclusion that a big meal and a drink had only made it worse (whoever says hair of the dog is the best way to kill a hangover, is completely out of their mind).

Despite sleeping most of the way on the train to the countryside, I was still  not well upon arrival in the charming little rural village. The taxi ride from the train station almost did me in (rolling hills and winding roads are not so quite so charming when you're hungover). Luckily however, we did make it to T's quaint village cottage with our stomachs intact.

So, we are sitting and watching the Cricket game and I'm still concentrating on not throwing up, when slowly through the thick fog of my hangover, I become aware that there is a a rather attractive guy on the Cricket field. I ask M who he is and she informs me that he is a childhood friend of T's and unfortunately, he is taken (although sans girlfriend for the weekend). Well, that figures. I mentally cross him off my list of potential flirting partners for the weekend.

The boys come in from the Cricket field to take their turn at bat and I'm introduced to the cute boy. He is even cuter up close - not beautifully aloof in the Beautiful Swede way, but roguishly handsome in a rugged, disheveled, manly way. "I didn't think he would be your type," M would say later.

But up close, it was perhaps less the way he looked, and more the way he looked at me that commanded my attention... He gave me "the look." You know that one where he looks you up and down slowly starting at your shoes, noting the shape of your legs in your fall boots, taking in your blue autumn dress, momentarily lingering on your breasts and then looking right in your eyes as if he can see all the way through to your soul. And from that first "look" I went weak in the knees and I have to admit that I was a bit smitten. Reluctantly smitten. But yes, smitten.

And although I was still very aware that he was "unavailable," I concluded that there is nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting (especially if initiated by him), right? And I promise that I was only joking when discussing sleeping arrangements with M that I would offer to solve the crowded house sleeping arrangement problem by sleeping with him.

And I swear that I did not seek out this boy nor did I intentionally try to turn on the charm (believe me, I can be quite charming when I want to be) but it just so happened that after the Cricket game ended, we ended up standing at the Cricket Club bar together where he convinced me to drink a pint of lager (much to the loud protestations of my stomach and still pounding head) and then proceeded to engage me in a conversation that left me not only smitten, but absolutely fascinated.

You see, he is a former journalist turned (as yet unpublished) writer who is working on his first book. Therefore, I will now refer to him appropriately as "The Writer." And if his looks had been the interesting factor before, I quickly realized that his personality was even more attractive. As a person who is (obviously) interested in writing and dreams of writing a book some day, I of course had lots of questions for him about the book writing process. He patiently answered my questions and gave me some interesting insight into a writer's world.

And we talked a lot about reading (another passion of mine) and it was quickly obvious we had read many of the same books. To my delight, he even begrudgingly admitted to having read (for professional reasons of course) and kind of liked the entire Twilight series, despite not being able to relate to all the teenage girl angst and being slightly disappointed on Stephanie Myer's failure to "understand the male psych."

And the more he talked, the more interesting I found The Writer. And slowly, it began to dawn on me that chemistry aside, this guy was kind of sort of my "dream guy." He was witty, intelligent, interesting and full of life. Well traveled, well educated, athletic, and well rounded. The first guy I have met in a long time who I feel is multi-dimensional enough to match me on many levels.

Apparently our connection was noticed by others around because just minutes into our initial conversation, one of the old drunk villagers interrupted us by asking "Are you two married?" And The Writer looked into my eyes and therefore into my soul, and we both just laughed.

And his eyes - hazel specked with brown, and full of warmth and life... I had trouble looking into them because those eyes sucked me in and made it so hard to look away that the second I did I found myself longing to look back again.

But, if I wasn't smitten enough already, as the night went on and more pints were drunk, he somehow started singing to me in a wonderful singing voice Susanne and Famous Blue Raincoat - my two most favorite Leonard Cohen songs - and it was at that point that I just fell. Head over heels. Hard.

We continued to talk the entire night. I kept trying to pull myself away from him, but found myself completely unable. When he was not standing with me, I found myself searching for him and I found that he was more often than not looking at me as well. But I still considered him "off limits" and honestly there was no overt flirting going on, we did not touch each other and we did not stand too close to eachother or do anything else that would be considered inappropriate, although I can't deny the fact that I was by this point doing some serious "wishful thinking."

Ok please stop reading now if you are:*

a. My parents (although, mom we kind of already discussed this - I just left out the details - you don't really need to read them - dad, neither do you)

b. My colleagues

c. T (of M and T)

d. A person of strong morals who is going to judge me

e. A mean anonymous commenter

 So, the evening progressed and we finally had enough of drinking and dancing and we turned off the lights and music at the Cricket Club and headed back to the house to get some much needed rest.

And I'm not sure if it was the planets aligning or some cruel trick of fate, but suddenly it became clear that the only place for me to sleep (without doing some serious waking up and rearranging of people) was in the spare bed in the room that he was in. (I immediately regretted saying what I had said previously about the sleeping arrangements).

So, we both pretended that this was cool. And I was seriously questioning how cool it really was - engaged in an internal battle of feeling that maybe I should sleep on the floor somehwere else and really really wanting  to sleep in the room with him - to see where this night long charade would take us (because at this point, I really had no idea). But one thing was clear... it was all too easy. We had the perfect excuse to do what we wanted and it was up to us to choose the final outcome. And The Writer seemed ok with the proposed sleeping arrangement... so, we both went with it, although I'm sure his internal battle was even more intense than my own.

So everyone got into their pajamas and we all said goodnight and then The Writer and I closed the door to "our bedroom." And suddenly it was like the world started to spin and we just looked at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity. The sexual tension was on intensity overload, my heart was in my throat, I was weak in the knees, and I swear that the room was on fire. And as much as I told myself that I should walk over to my bed and just lay down and go to sleep, my legs refused to listen and with a mind of their own, they began to move in the other direction - toward him just as he was moving toward me. We met in the middle and he touched my arm and I swear that it there were not only sparks, it was a freaking electrical storm.

Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. And his response was the slowest most amazing kiss.

"You can't deny chemistry," he said and his fingers were like flames moving over my body.

Later though as the awkwardness set in, he did admit to feeling guilty (which was both weird and relieving all at once. Weird because well... do I need to go there? And relieving because if he didn't feel guilty, well it probably means he does this all the time. And no, I didn't get the feeling that he does). I mumbled something about what's done is done and regret is a pointless emotion. "You're right. I just need to put it in parenthesis," The Writer said.

The next morning came too quickly and when the rest of the house began stirring, we decided to get up and head our separate ways. The day was full of trivial conversation and longing glances exchanged across the room. I was oversensitive and over aware of his presence at all times. And when he was standing close to me, all I could think about was wanting to reach out and touch him and overwhelmed by the unfairness of the fact that it would be totally inappropriate to do so.

The closest we came to an intimate moment was on the way to the pub for Sunday brunch when we were both walking dogs on leashes and the leashes managed to wrap around each other in such a way that we were pulled together and forced into an awkward moment of closeness as we tried to untangle ourselves and the dogs. "This is how they met in The Lady and the Tramp," The Writer said...

And then it was time to say goodbye and head back to London in separate cars. We both climbed the stairs to "our bedroom" and gathered up our belongings. And then once again, we stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. "I guess this is goodbye," he said. "Yes." I replied and then he took me in his arms and gave me one last lingering kiss full of sweet longing, regret and things that "could have been".

And in that moment before we reluctantly pulled ourselves apart, the bittersweet images of a life that almost was but would never be, played out in my mind - the cozy nights at home, the fun parties with friends, the trips around the world, the dancing in each other's arms, the beautiful rambunctious children that we would never have. And just as soon as the thoughts had entered my mind, they withdrew as quickly as his lips left mine as I guiltily remembered that this life is real and not a romantic English fairytale (or a chick lit novel), nor am I Elizabeth Bennet and he is surely not Mr. Darcy. We are just two people who shared a night who had no future outside this room in the English countryside.

And so, we left the room together as strangers. 

And finally, we endured a public parting - in front of other people and I swear they could all see the electricity sparking off our bodies as we touched and air kissed each other goodbye - one remorseful kiss on each cheek. And after saying goodbye to everyone else, when no one was looking, he blew me a kiss and walked off to his car, looking backward at me the whole way. And I felt an incredible sadness wash over me as I knew that I had just met an amazing guy who was absolutely not mine for the taking. An amazing guy who probably has an amazing girlfriend. An amazing guy, who I was never going to see again.

And I have to admit that I felt sad. It's now two days later and I still feel sad. And I've thought about him more than I want to admit. I'm struggling to deal with myself on this one. I've gotten used to not caring, not feeling. I've gotten used to meeting lots of shallow beautiful men who are more suited to one or two dates, to one kiss, to one night - they essentially mean nothing to me and leave no more imprint on me than the empty words posted about them in this blog. I've gotten used to meeting men with many good qualities but always in the beginning - usually in the very first encounter - I sense a strong "but" that I know can't be overcome, that I know makes that guy not right for me in the long run (if I'm honest with myself, even the Beautiful Swede was ruled out in the beginning by the "but" and deemed not suitable for long term potential).

But for the first time in a long time, I felt in The Writer a lingering potential, a beautiful possibility that I had not felt in a very long time (maybe ever).

But he is taken and I'm leaving London in less than 2 weeks, so this is the end of the story. The end of the British countryside romance. It began before it started. I loved and lost in just 24 hours (although it could certainly be said I never "had" in the first place).**

So, that's it. It's over (I keep having to tell myself this). It was awesome and bittersweet and confusing all at once. And now I'm left feeling empty and alone with a wonderful yet guilty memory and  the unrealistic romantic fantasies of a whirlwind romance that will never take place and the unmistakable longing that I will hear from him again.***

*And if you do continue reading, do so at your own risk and try not to judge me, or him and know that this post was one that I really struggled to write.

**I'm not that girl who "falls in 'love'" easily. Or at all. Or ever. In fact, I'm that girl who is not even sure she believes in love. I'm that girl who guys think are cold. And while I'm obviously exaggerating here when I say "love," I did fall for this guy. Hard. More than I ever fall for guys. And that kills me.

***We didn't exchange any contact details.

Week in Review

Hey Y'all. Well, things have been pretty busy. And I've been busy reading lots of other blogs. So much so that I have not been keeping up with writing my own!

So, just in case you have been wondering what I've been up to, let me give you a little "week in review."

These are some of the things I did this week:

Celebrated Bank Holiday Monday with a Sleep in - that's right, this Monday was a bank holiday here in the UK. For me, that meant sleeping late - although this was unfortunately rudely interrupted by the appearance of my House Cleaner who decided to give up her Bank Holiday to clean my flat - which was actually kind of nice...

Continued to Celebrate Bank Holiday Monday with Brunch, Shopping and Drinks with M - I met M and T for brunch at my favorite brunch restaurant - a very American Style dinner called Chelsea Bun (if you are craving pancakes, waffles and omelets, look no further than this awesome place). We started the day with a Bloody Mary - yummy! Then T had to go into work so M and I continued the afternoon with shopping followed by more drinks at The Botanist

Found out from M that my Ex Boyfriend is now engaged - That's right. You heard correctly. THE EX BOYFRIEND. The Scottish Ex Boyfriend. The one I dated off an on for four years (I have not blogged about him yet but those of you who know me know exactly who he is) is engaged to the girl he started dating after me! Ugh. I can't say this devastated me - a fact that I'm kinda proud of actually. It's been a long time since we broke up.... Also, I never imagined that him and I would get engaged so I guess that makes it hurt less. But still... It made me think and it made me a little sad. I guess I always thought I would get engaged first. Ok. I will be more honest. I guess that a small part of me still thought that maybe one day we would get back together. His getting engaged seems to close the door on any future relationship between us - in fact, I would say that door is now locked up tight (which is probably a good thing). And of course I'm working on a blog post around this subject, so stay tuned for the details at a later date.

Suffered the Back to Work Blues on Tuesday - it's always tough to go back to work after a long weekend. Tougher still when you are feeling a bit unmotivated in your job. I am leaving my current position at the end of September. I will stay within the same company but switch products and divisions completely. So, I'm at the tail-end of my "phase out." Having been with my current product for 6 years, this is a big deal. I enjoy being at the center of things, making key decisions and watching them pan out. It's been strange to hand over my responsibility and watch other people start making decisions around me. It's very weird to plan for next year and know that I will not be there. And it's hard to realize that I'm no longer important or involved in things... Yes. It does seem that just like everyone else, I'm very replaceable (something I've always been aware of - I'm not that egocentric - but the reality of it is harder than the theory).  In general my job is important to me and I get so much satisfaction from working and the contributions I make, so suddenly having things slow down has been strange, depressing and demotivating. I've been having a tough time with the transition (although I fully realize this is totally my decision)... But enough about that. I try not to blog much about work but sometimes it's inevitable.

Went to an Offsite Meeting in Cambridge - As I have mentioned before, my job is kind of awesome and we often get to do cool things in cool places. So, rather than having another meeting in the London office, we went offsite to Cambridge for a 2-day meeting.

Went Punting on the River in Cambridge - This is a must do if you are in Cambridge. Basically you get on a long flat boat and someone "punts" you down the river which involves sticking a long pole in the river and pushing the boat along. It's very relaxing and according to our guide can be quite hilarious during the weekend when the punts are full of drunk students. The scenery is beautiful and historic as you wind down the river right through Cambridge University and past such historic buildings such as King's College Chapel.

Had Dinner at Jamie Oliver's in Cambridge - The atmosphere was great! And our big round table was perfect for a team dinner. But, I found the food mildly disappointing. The price however, was not bad at all. If you are in Cambridge and looking for a nice place to eat, I would give it a go (but I do not recommend the fish in a bag).

Received another unsolicited Email from the Beautiful Swede - Yup. He's back up to his old tricks of trying to contact me. He wants to be friends. He would love for me to write him back. Yadda Yadda... It always bothers me when he writes to me because then I start to think about him again and struggle with whether or not I should write him back. As I have mentioned before, despite his attempts to contact me, I have not spoken with him or written to him since Christmas. I'm just not sure what the point would be. We were not friends before we started to date. I'm not sure we can be friends now... But sometimes I do really want to contact him. I want to tell him what I've been up to in these past months. I want to share the exciting changes in my life with him. I want to hear about what's going on with him. I miss talking to him. I hate to admit it, but I still think of him every day. And I unfortunately still care about him more than I want to admit (do not worry, I have no disillusions of ever getting back together with him). But that means that if I were to talk to him, and he were to talk about his current life this would inevitably mean talking about his current girlfriend... and at this point, I realize that this would probably make me sad and upset. So, this is kind of why I don't go there. I'm still not cool with the fact that he moved on so quickly and I'm well still "looking for Mr. Right." 

Realized that after way too much summer indulgence in food and alcohol, my clothes are not fitting exactly the way I would like them to - So, I guess that means it's definitely time to kickstart a refocus on having a healthy lifestyle and getting back in shape: start hitting the gym and running more, push myself harder when working out (I still continued to work out often this summer but didn't really push myself), eat healthier and forgo those oh-too-often glasses of wine (I seriously think that alcohol and french fries are my true downfalls). Ugh. I'm not really looking forward to this. But it needs to be done! I hate feeling out of shape.

Met my Personal Trainer - See above point (I'm off to a good start). That man freaking kills me. Seriously, it's 4 days later and I still can't move my arms without immense pain. But as they say - "No pain, no gain." Although I'm still a bit miffed that I actually pay lots of money to allow someone to inflict physical pain upon me. Now, if only the results would make themselves known soon!

Thanked God it's Friday - I was very very happy to see Friday arrive. It was a busy day at work though as I had foreign visitors to take care of. After work I went for a run in the park with a colleague (see above points - aren't you impressed that I'm making good on my promise to work out more - although it would have been slightly better if I didn't eat pizza tonight and french fries and nachos yesterday). Then I had a quiet night in spent catching up on Jersey Shore Episodes and various blog reading.

Hosted a Fabulous Chelsea Pub Crawl - On Saturday I hosted a Pub Crawl! I've been wanting to participate in a pub crawl since arriving in London and as my days here are limited, I decided to throw one. To keep it simple, I decided that we would stick around the Chelsea area.* We started at 14:00 at The Phene and were supposed to end up at the Botanist around 23:00. The idea was to go to 12 pubs and have a drink at each. The turn out was pretty decent although most people chose to pop in and out along the way. It was just me and my Sexy Single friend A who made it through from the beginning until "almost" the end (see next point). Although most people stayed through the first 6 or 7 pubs. All in all it was a good time! I kept track of how much people had to drink via a complicated process of awarding different types of stickers. At the end of the night I even handed out awards for the one who stayed the longest and had a drink at most places (Sexy Single Friend A took this one) and also for the one who did the best at trying to catch up despite joining late - this went to American Boy J who joined us late but took lots of shots to catch up. And also to the ones who tried to cheat by using one score card for two people - this was of course M and T.

Made an Executive Decision to Cancel the Pub Crawl - After dinner, everyone (including me) started to drag and many of the early joiners had dropped off. We made it to the 10th pub around 10 pm. For some reason this pub was as miserably hot as a sauna. It was then that I made the executive decision (I was the organizer after all) to leave the pub, cut the crawl short (we had two more pubs to go), and head back to my house for more drinks of course! By this time we had lost a lot of people but gained a bunch of others. We were about 15 people who headed to my house (much to my neighbors dismay) cranked up the party music, opened some bottles and caught a second wind!

Went Clubbing and Danced all night - And after a long day of drinking, what else is there to do but continue on for a night of clubbing! So, we went back to Valmont again! With a big group this time. Unfortunately, there were no hot boy to sweep me off my feet this time. But it was ok anyway, I had fun dancing the night away with friends!

So, that was my week in review. What did you do this week? Any good stories?

As for the week ahead, I'm off to Stockholm from Wednesday to Sunday. I will meet my team there and say goodbye to them (this will be my last trip in professional capacity). I have big plans with the Swedish girls this weekend, but for various reasons, I can't reveal them yet. Stay tuned for the sure-to-be-amazing details coming at you next week!

And let me end this post by asking for your advice. So, what do you think? Should I email back the Beautiful Swede? Or just let it go? Do you think we can be friends? Can you ever be friends with your Ex? Is there any reason to be?

Have a great week!

XOXO

*In case you want to "borrow" the pub crawl route that I invented for this weekend's fun. Here is the route for the Fabulous Chelsea Pub Crawl:

1. The Phene
2. The Cross Keys
3. The Pig's Ear
4. Cadogan Arms
5. Henry J. Beans
6. Trafalgar (dinner was here)
7. Sydney Arms
8. The Builders Arms
9. Chelsea Potter
10. The Phoenix (we ended the crawl here so didn't make it to the last two)
11. The Queen's Head
12. The Botanist

The Hot German Boy

So, I was getting a little bit worried that I wouldn't have anything exciting to blog about this weekend. I've been feeling a bit blue these days (for reasons I will inevitably address in another post) and the terrible London weather is not helping (I have never witnessed a more miserable summer). In general I'm feeling a bit uninspired.

As of Friday at 5 pm this International Woman of Mystery did not have a single plan for the weekend, but I was kind of feeling ok with that - thinking that I would just wallow around in my misery and spend some time alone. As you do when you are feeling down and at.

At the same time, I was realizing that this might not be a good idea and I should probably find some energy to force myself to do something if for no other reason than for the sake of this blog and my faithful readers (I now have a total of 13 official followers - btw, click follow if you have not done so already) and being able to write about something mildly entertaining.

Sexy Single Friend A saved the night on Friday though, and we decided to meet up for drinks at my favorite Chelsea pub The Phene to celebrate her new job. However, as much as I'm excited for her, it was a low key evening and I was home by 9: 30 in bed catching up on the latest Jersey Shore episode. I love me some GTL!!! Fist Pump!

On Saturday I woke up in a not much improved mood. I had two options for the evening and then the one I was leaning toward kind of fell through (or at least got a bit overly complicated) and I was seriously contemplating just staying in Saturday evening as well. But again, realizing that my days in London are dwindling and I should make the most of my time here, I searched deep inside to find some inner motivation. And then I did the following: went shopping at French Connection and spent too much money, took a power nap, went for an 8K run, threw on a sexy LBD, spent a little extra time on the hair and makeup and locked up my apartment and hit the street!

I decided to meet some work friends for a birthday dinner. The problem with this plan was the fact that the majority were work friends. And while I like most of them very much, we do an awful lot of work socializing in general and sometimes I need a break from work (because inevitably we talk way too much about work). The other problem was that I'm not exactly getting along with a certain colleague right now for reasons that I won't go into as I try to make it a policy not to blog about work stuff cuz let's face it it's boring and I spend way too much energy on work as it is. I knew he was coming to the party and I was so not interested in any possible altercation with him.

In the end it was a nice birthday dinner and copious amounts of wine and sangria helped create a fun party atmosphere and the colleague that I don't get along with made an appearance late and I didn't really need to interact with him. So, all was good.

Then we decided to go clubbing. As we had not put much thought into where we would go (i.e. we were not on any lists for the super exclusive clubs), we ended up at our old standby Valmont on Fulham Road. The scene of last weekend's crime. But I didn't mind. As I have mentioned before, I really like this club. It's small, they play good music and the people are usually ok and it's not as much of a "scene" as many of the other clubs nor does it have the high price tag.

So, there we are dancing together in kind of an obnoxious circle when suddenly the friend of the colleague who I do not get along with approaches me. He starts asking me about living in the US and making some small talk. The conversation doesn't really go that well since he is pretty intoxicated (thankfully, for once, I am less so) and the music is loud. Actually, I realize that he is really drunk. And that he is possibly attempting to firt with me - or else he is just trying to grab my hand to maintain his balance - I'm not entirely sure. I'm a  nice girl and I try to be polite but eventually need to move away from him to the other side of the circle. But suddenly there he is again - crossing the entire circle to get to me so that we can have this conversation:

Drunk Swede: So, I really think that we should go home together.

Me: Oh really? Why's that?

Drunk Swede: It will be a really good time.

Me: Umm... Let me get back to you on that one (walk away - FAST)

So, after that little interesting episode that made me laugh. I decide to escape to the ladies room. On my way back to the dance floor, I decide to stop at the bar to get another drink - I mean I'm going to need it if I have to keep interacting with the Drunk Swede.

Standing at the bar is a guy who from behind looks like he might be interesting. He is tall at least. I decide to go and stand next to him. He immediately notices me says something to the extent of that he can make room for me. He is paying for his drinks and is about to leave. He is GORGEOUS! I do not want him to leave... But what can I do?

I try to think of something quick and witty to say to grab his attention and make him stay... but nothing comes. Oh no! He is turning away! C'mon International Woman of Mystery - say something!!!! But he is already headed back to the dance floor. Damn. I look back at him again and see him hesitate and then turn back around, take steps back to the bar and look at me. The bartender is asking me for my drink order, but I am too busy watching the boy. Oh this is awkward! What do I do? I can't think. But the chemistry between us is so strong it's amazing - I can't let him get away.

He starts to leave again and I turn back to the bar. And finally I turn around again and he is still hesitating. We have to speak... So, I blurt out a very smooth opening line: "What's your name?" (Oh jeez is that all I could come up with)? And of course his name is something difficult to understand in the blaring music and I have to ask him to repeat it like 3 times before I get it. But, he has now come back to the bar and is standing next to me looking at me with amazing eyes. So mission accomplished. 

I am so distracted by his total hotness (seriously, this guy is beautiful enough to rival the Beautiful Swede) that I'm still totally unable to get a drink at the bar. I know I should be ordering the drink and I can tell that the bartender is getting a little annoyed with me as are the people behind us who are pushing to get bar space, but I can't take my eyes off this boy. Have you ever met someone where your chemistry just clicks and you are just really drawn to someone? Well, this is how it was for me in that moment. It was totally overpowering and completely awesome.

We enter the standard conversation of where are you from and what are you doing here and I finally manage to put in the drink order. I find out the hot boy is from Germany and is visiting for Investment Banking training - what else? (Seriously, I sometimes feel like there is no other profession in this city). Unfortunately, he has three checks against him: 1) he's an investment banker (or even worse, an investment banker wanna be), 2) he's German (actually I once dated a German for quite awhile and that was okay but in general they are not really known for being the most interesting or fun people) and 3) he's only in the city until Friday.

But what the hell right? He seems interesting and smart enough. He's young - 27 (perfect age). He's tall. And he is just so damn hot (I realize I have mentioned this before, but had to say it again)! I love the cute black glasses he is wearing (for some reason I find this style of glasses so sexy on men - as long as they can pull it off). And the attraction between us is incredible! When he leaned in to kiss me... well let's just say it was amazing. I actually think there were actual. So, we head off to the dance floor and dance the night away together... (Remember that this blog is rated PG 13).

So, the weekend was a success after all. The only thing that could have made it more successful is if the German boy was not leaving this week and I would see him again. But alas, it was only meant to be a one night fling. But sometimes, that's all you need to get back in the game.

Speaking of getting back in the game, stay tuned for an update on my date with the Sexy Cop!

XOXO

Drunk Blog

First of all, I want to start by thanking the attendant in the bathroom who noticed that my skirt was tucked into my underwear (or pants as they call them here in London) and yanking it down for me and saving me the embarrassment of going back into the Chelsea club and parading my goods for all to see! Seriously thanks. I appreciate that small act of kindness. And I’m even sorry that I didn’t tip you.

Second of all, I want to thank my friend M for always insisting we order Long Islands and tequila shots as we did when we were very young indeed. And even though we now laugh and say that we are too old for such shenanigans, we always find ourselves ordering that Shi#$ at the bar. M - you are the best! Thanks for making sure we keep it real.

Third of all, I want to thank the irritating short guy who kept feeling me up all night from behind. Seriously, you can’t handle this! Although I suppose you knew this when trying to cop a feel when I wasn’t looking. Let me give you some advice, next time pick on someone your own size!

Fourth, I want to thank A for having an awesome BBQ with really yummy food and fun people who were all down with being dragged out for some impromptu clubbing.

Fifth and finally, thanks to my fabulous blog readers who are putting up with me as I commit the sin of BLOGGING DRUNK! And I promise that after my hangover (oh yeah, I feel it coming) wears off, I will update you on my totally awesome trip to South Africa.

So laters biatches. Hope you have a good night!

P.S. Shoot - I almost forgot. I also want to thank the DJ at Valmont who played awesome music all night. I danced my ass off tonight and had fun.

P. P. S. Ok seriously. I’m going to bed now.

Night night Y’all!

XOXO
-International Woman of Mystery

Back to London and being a Faux Swede

So, I’m back in London now and I’m kinda struggling to get back on the work schedule but in fact, a very strange thing has happened: I don’t have that much to do at work. There are some reason behind this which I will get to at a later date, but this is a very weird experience for me. I’m used to being really really busy. I don’t know what to do with myself when I don’t have 15 hours of work that I’m trying to cram into a 10 hour day! Oh dear... what is wrong with me? Why am I even complaining about this. I’m thinking that I should shut up now and just try to enjoy it.

I’m also thinking that now that I have some free time again, maybe I should pursue the London dating scene again! I’m simultaneously trying to pursue the work out/eat healthy/get in shape scene again - but that’s really not as interesting for me to write about and there are enough blogs out there about that!

I decided to jump back into the London scene Swedish London scene by attending a Swedish Chamber of Commerce event with my sexy single friend A. Ok for real. Why did I not do this before? It’s the perfect place to look for my future Swedish husband pick up cute 25 year old Swedish boys. But more on that in a minute - first I’m going to sidetrack a bit and talk about being a faux Swede - one of my favorite subjects.

The thing about Swedes is that you can spot a Swede a mile away. They stand out! But for good reasons. They look good, they dress good, they carry themselves well... overall they just have a good style.

As I have mentioned before, I look very Swedish - or at least that’s what I’m told over and over again by Swedes and Non-Swedes. However, it never fails to amuse me when people mistake me for being Swedish. I do take this as a really great compliment. I love being a Faux Swede!

So, after that introduction, let me get back to the weekend.

Friday night we hit the bar for After Work (as the Swedes would say) or Happy Hour as the Americans would say. Since I’ve moved to London I’ve been waiting anxiously for The Phene, a pub very near to my house to open. It’s been under renovation since I moved here but it looked like a great place with a huge outdoor terrace. It opened while I was on vacation and is seemingly a big success (especially with the Swedes who seem to have a good sense of nice pubs).

So, we headed there after work for a few drinks and let me tell you - it is my new favorite place! Fact. I plan to live there this summer. It has a great outdoor terrace and the inside is really nice as well. In fact, the whole place is really “Swedish” meaning I feel like I could be in Sweden and considering that the clientele was mostly Swedes (mostly my colleagues and their friends) I guess that is not exactly surprising.

The only downside is that I heard the food was not so great and you have to exit the terrace around 10 pm due to noise regulations. Oh well. Despite that, it’s still pretty good. And on this night there were even cute (Non-Swedish actually) boys to flirt with like Tom the investment banker... who gave me his business card but was too arrogant for my liking... Why is everyone in this city an investment banker? And even worse, it just seems like investment bankers are not my type. I wish I could meet a nice and interesting one and then I would literally eat my words. But I’m thinking that’s not going to happen.

So, a funny thing did happen at the Pub. I was speaking to a colleague who works in a different product that I met for the first time that night. So, we are in this long conversation which did involve me explaining some of my life including the fact that I lived in Sweden for 5 years but I started working for my company in Boston etc. I did feel that at different points of the conversation we were having trouble connecting, although I couldn’t quite understand what the problem was. So, about 20 minutes into the conversation I mentioned something about my Swedish being “not very good,” and she was like “Why not? Did you live abroad a lot as a kid?” And I was suddenly like “ You do realize that I’m American, right?” At that point we both realized that this whole time she’d been sitting there thinking I was Swedish and that had led to our small miscommunication! We had a good long laugh about this! But once again, unknowingly, I was posing as a faux Swede! I swear, I’m not even trying to trick people. It just happens!

Saturday night was the Chamber of Commerce event: a BBQ boat ride down the Thames. This time, I unfortunately did not get to drive the boat, but it was still a fun night for other reasons.

So, I’m waiting for my sexy single friend A to make an appearance - I am oddly early and she is oddly late. And I’m standing at Westminster Pier watching all the Swedes and reflecting on how amusing it is that you can easily spot the Swedes as they really stand out from the other tourists and Londoners. One of the organizers of the event (enter the aforementioned 25 year old Swede) comes up and asks me (in Swedish of course) if I’m Swedish and if I’m there for the party. I tell him in English that technically no, I’m not Swedish (just a Faux Swede - but I don't say that out loud thank God) but I am here for the event. And he is nice enough to make small talk with me until my friend arrives. Once again, I’m amused that he thinks I’m Swedish until I tell him that I’m not. There were obviously other foreigners at the event but I could easily pick out who they were. What makes me more Swede-like? Swedish followers? What do you think? Comments appreciated.

I was also amused by the 25 year old’s “oh-so-Swedish” outfit. The party was actually a theme party. The theme was ironically “The Hamptons” which I think he actually came up with. Ironic because here I was an American looking like a Swede pretending to be an American! Did I loose you yet? I think I lost myself... Anyway, back to his outfit. He was going for a Chuck Bass (you know from Gossip Girl) Hampton’s look and had actually Googled this picture below and managed to succeed in rocking this style:

The “oh-so-Swedish” part however was the socks. He was of course wearing pink socks (which were highly visible with all that white and because the pant legs were cut perfectly to show off the pink socks - So Swedish)! Seriously, why do Swedish men all wear pink socks. The Beautiful Ex Swede has like 5 pairs. It is hard for me to imagine an American man wearing pink socks*...

Anyway, the night progressed. The boat went up and down the river as the rose wine flowed and people started to get to know each other. And most importantly there were lots of cute boys to entertain my sexy single friend A and I. The night continued at a Mayfair club called Whiskey Mist which is a pretty fun club. It was actually a pretty good night! Fun to go to a club with 120 people you have just met. Makes you feel like you know everyone and sets a good party mood. The club was good. The music was good. The people were good. I was drinking champagne and dancing with the cute 25 year old Swedish boy dressed like Chuck Bass. And you know I can’t resist me some Chuck Bass...

And so I will end the night there... No need for more details... ;)

Hope your week is off to a great start!

*Shh... don't tell anyone, but I secretly like pink socks on men. This might be even more proof that I'm a faux Swede! Help!

An American Affair in London

A Monday night in London. Two hot single Americans meet up in an apartment in Chelsea. After doing the required round of casual catching up, what else is there to do in London, but go to the Pub? So, off to the Pub we go. But unfortunately we only have time for one pint before we are kicked out. For some absurd reason Pubs close at 11 pm here - even on the weekends. So, said Pub sends us over to strange "smelly" (they did warn us) dive bar/lounge across the road. They were right, the place smelled bad and at 20 pounds for 2 drinks, it wasn't even cheap! I mean if you are in a dive bar/lounge, at least the very least the drinks should be cheap! After one drink and several funny pictures later, we decide that the only good thing about the overpriced and smelly place was the company (meaning us) and the conversation so we decided to head back to my apartment and continue to drink there.

As I've decided this blog is rated PG 13 (I accidentally told my parents about it), the rest of the night is censored, but you get the picture - cuz you're smart like that. But let's just say the boy still looked fabulous without a shirt on!

After approximately 2 hours and 25 minutes of sleep, needless to say, the next day at work was not fun. I found myself unable to finish any sentences because I kept loosing the point of what I was saying and forgetting to listen when other people spoke. It's amazing what sleep deprivation can do to you (and I am not even a person who generally needs a lot of sleep). I actually managed to speak on the phone to the manager of my Russian team for about an hour and hang up with literally no memory of the entire conversation. However, because I am kind of awesome at my job, I have perfected a very good auto-response mode. I can make really good sounds as if I'm actually listening to people while paying absolutely no attention at all. I think I'm pretty good at this - at least no one has really called me out on it yet. I also have a really good radar that enables me to tune back in for really the important parts. The problem is that by the time I realize that they are actually talking about something important, it's a bit late and I have to ask them to repeat themselves. But this is usually taken care of easily by a simple: "I'm sorry. The connection is bad and I missed that last part, can you repeat it? (Thanks to Skype and poor international mobile phone connections - this is usually pretty believable)

Anyway, continuing with my newly found rock star lifestyle, the Hot American Boy and I decide to take on the London nightlife on a Tuesday night. What do you know? There is quite a lot of nightlife to be found in London on a Tuesday night! After an amazing dinner of Indian food with the best Chicken Tikka Masala I have ever had, we went to Boujis a nightclub rumored to be a fun place during the week. Let's just say Boujis lived up to its reputation. To quote the Hot American "A Tuesday night in London is way better than any Saturday night in Boston." The place was great. The music was ok (he is a DJ so we did spend a lot of time critiquing the music and talking about how he could totally do it better). He liked to dance. I liked to dance. And we had great fun dancing and drinking together.

But the best part of the night was definitely the extreme mopping. Suddenly not one but two men wielding mops appeared on the dance floor. It seemed that their instruction was make sure to keep mopping all the time for as many hours as the club was open. HILARIOUS! I have never seen anything like it. We speculated a lot about what the reason could be behind the extreme mopping... We convinced ourselves that there must have been a major incident - possibly even a death - that caused the need for this particular club to pay TWO men to mop all night and physically move unsuspecting dancers and drinkers out of their way so they could make absolutely sure they kept the floor absolutely slip-free. The mop men took their jobs very seriously. They had their eyes to the floor the whole night circling the club - at times shining flashlights to make sure there weren't any puddles lurking about in the shadows. We were a witness to one serious crash as a drink fell and smashed all over the floor sending dangerously spraying liquid all over the floor where drunken dancers might accidentally fall victims. But we were very relived to see that the mop men had it covered. They seemed to have a special radar because in 2.5 seconds of the glass crashing, both mop men were there, running from across the room to clear the glass and liquid ensuring a safe environment for the drunken dancers.

But even rock stars need their sleep, and after another late night we finally headed home. I had decided to take the next day off from work so thankfully we got to sleep in. Miraculously we woke without hangovers and decided to go for a run in the park. I am a really good runner and I work out a lot. Usually when others work out with me they tend to regret it for the next few days as I make them do interval running, push ups, lunges, squats, step-ups for a minimum of one hour. I also have a competitive spirit that borders on unhealthy. So, of course I felt the need to tell the Hot American Boy it was ok if he felt he couldn't keep up with me... BAD IDEA. Note to self, when a guy has a six-pack, do not challenge them to a running competition. I was trying to make out like the tough girl that I pretend I am, but secretly I wanted to die the entire run - I couldn't breath! We ran way faster then I'm used to and did lots of push ups and burpys (not sure of the spelling here buyt it involves throwing yourself on the ground then jumping straight up in the air over and over again). He even did lunges better than me! When we finally got back to the house, I claimed "first shower" and hid myself immediately in the bathroom where I laid on the floor for the next 10 minutes trying not to throw up.

The rest of the day was spent in a more relaxed and less competitive manner with a trip to the V&A Museum where we saw an amazing Digital Design Exhibit, followed by afternoon tea (how British) and then a trip to Harrod's. I really hate shopping but for some reasons Harrod's is one of my favorite places in the world! It feels more like a Museum than a department store and I find it amazing how may luxury, unique and random things you can manage to stumble upon. Then back to my apartment where we opted for a night in with take-out and movies and cuddles on the coach. I admit... I was starting to really fall for this guy.

One interesting dynamic between me and the The Hot American boy is that we are both from the same place. We went to the same school, had the same teachers, knew the same people, had similar childhood experiences and reference points. I have lived abroad for so long now, that I forget what it's like to connect with someone just because we are from the same place. In my office of 150 people, we have 32 different nationalities, I spend my days explaining myself, trying to understand others, trying to relate to other cultures and looking for common ground. I had forgotten how powerful a connection of "hometown" can be.

But more important than the hometown connection, we seemed to be able to connect in the present as well. To be honest, I had kind of thought of his as just another pretty boy... I didn't expect much from him intelligence-wise or compatibility-wise. I apologize in advance for whoever I'm about to offend with this next part - it is most likely (as you will see has been proven) that my prejudices and stereotypes are part of my own ignorance and not the other way around... The thing is, this boy is from Western Mass. He is AMERICAN (I haven't dated an American since I left America 8 years ago). I expected him to be like the stereotype I have of an American boy from Western Mass (I won't go into details here). I also kind of expected him to be stupid or at least not that intelligent (because he's hot, not because he's American). But the Hot American Boy totally proved me wrong impressed me with his worldly knowledge and experience (he has traveled to quite a few places). In addition to having an impressive job and being seemingly a reliable and honest person, he is completely open-minded, moderately well-read, and open to new people and adventures, and curious about the world. He loves to travel and seemed envious of all the travel I had done and didn't seem to mind listening to my stories. Our common interest in traveling and general curiousness about the world even had me in a brief delusional moment vividly fantasizing about backpacking through South East Asia with him (something we both want to do)...

In addition to his general hotness, the fact that he looks fabulous without a shirt on, that we had tons of fun together, that we had great conversations, everything with him just felt so easy. We just got along. We never ran out of things to talk about, but were able to exist in silence without it being awkward. There was no arguing, no complications, no hidden agendas, no manipulations, no stress - just fun! He even gave me compliments on how I looked "your hair looks amazing" and on my clothes! If all that wasn't enough, the deal sealer was the boy even helped clean up around the house! Seriously. He won major points for making the bed (I can't stand an unmade bed) and doing the dishes and when he noticed that the table we had been eating on was messy, he even found the Windex and wiped it down! I love a man who knows how to clean - especially when he doesn't have to be asked (or nagged). What can be more sexy than that?

If the days we had spent together could be considered a first date, it was one of the best first dates ever! It almost restored my faith in men. It was admittedly the most fun I've had with a man since my Ex - the Beautiful Swede - he was maybe even better than the Beautiful Swede. My time with him was at least definitely way better then when the Swedish Adventurer came to visit. Rather than counting the hours until he would leave, I was wishing that time would stop and we could keep hanging out. But all good things must come to an end. And sadly, no further relationship was discussed and no feelings were revealed - I am not one for sappy relationship conversations and in fact, I try to avoid them at all costs. What would be the point anyway? He lives in Boston. I live in London. And also, I have to admit there was still a little bit of awkwardness surrounding the fact that I was essentially still "just his friend's sister." So, when he shut the door to go and catch his plane, I turned back to my empty apartment to face the harsh reality that my fun fling with the Hot American was over. I hate to admit it, but I felt really sad when he left and I kind of miss him...

I guess it's back to good old Match.com for me.