February has arrived and Blondie and I are still doing our thing. Arguing for 2 weeks about who has done what (or who) and then meeting up and spending the day in bed. The relationship was dying a not so slow and painful death. At the same time, Media Studies girl has become a good friend. So good in fact that in the October of the previous year she left large amounts of mascara all over my white puffa jacket. (Before a word is said, I was living in Essex and it was 1998.) What made her part with her alleged waterproof mascara? The demise of her two and a half year relationship with the man I like to call Paul Simon, on account of his liking for a curtain hairstyle.
With my encounters with Blondie under my belt, I was feeling much more confident about my chances of someday, somehow, securing a date with Media Studies girl. Sitting next to her through some god-awful African cinema (albinos and incest are all I will say!); I wondered if I would ever get a moment to tell her or show her how I felt.
Two days later my prayers were answered. A field trip for the Media Studies class, London, Valentines Day. If Darwin hadn’t presented such a compelling argument, I’d have thanked God. The class was excited, next Tuesday, London Baby!
It all began innocently enough; the usual messing around on the coach down, attending the first set of “talks by key industry figures” only because we’d had no chance to escape. The break came and we scattered. The venue was an old style speaker’s hall, and we took to the stalls which were empty. It turned out, Media Studies girl actually wanted to listen to one of the speakers, so we took our seats. We talked throughout. Leaning close to keep our voices down, her breath on my ear and neck set my hairs on end.
I couldn’t think of anything else but kissing her. And I had no idea how I was even supposed to attempt that. After all, who was I kidding, Paul Simon might have had the dodgiest haircut of the nineties, but he was 6ft 1 and built, oh…..and he had dangling bits and a Y chromosome. I had to get up, stretch my legs, move, do something! She followed me out and we perched in a window ledge, watching Westminster hustle and bustle with its own importance. I regained my composure and relaxed as a few of our friends joined us, breaking the spell. Maybe it was being in London, maybe it was the 6lbs of pick and mix we had consumed or maybe it was just us, but things got silly. 5 year olds at a wedding kinda silly. Knee slides along the parquet flooring was too good to resist, someone polished this floor very well!
Human skittles became the game and of course, it true primary school flirting technique fashion, Media Studies girl was my main target and tumble she did. I got up and ran, praying to god she’d give chase. And from that moment on she never disappointed…
I slid to a halt in my socks (not an easy thing to do) and caught her in my arms as she careered towards me, using her momentum, I pinned her to the wall, arms above her head and grinned. Feeling rather pleased with me, I must admit. Then she slowly let a smile spread across her face, looking me straight in the eye. She raised a seductive eyebrow and my composure fled. And we stood locked together. The daring look in her eyes had my knees weak and my mouth dry. Every point of skin contact felt red-hot. I let go, slowly and backed away.
