Recently I escaped family life to go on an overnight trip to Blenheim with friends. I resisted leaving a long list of instructions for my hubby knowing he is more than capable of looking after our almost two and a half year old. Besides, she's old enough to gesture towards the pantry when she's hungry and it's obviously time to change her nappy when it's dragging on the floor.
I booked a room of my own at a lodge. I was particularly looking forward to eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Since we have been blessed with a non-sleeper, it feels like a life-time ago when I last got the eight hours of sleep recommended for an adult to function.
“You can tell you're a Mum” said one of my friends sitting next to me at dinner as she pointed to my empty plate, finished a good five minutes before everyone else. Little did she know that I have been a food-inhaler most of my life. I cannot blame parenthood for the way I throw food down my throat. But, she had a valid point. Our 5pm tea times are typically so focused on getting food into our toddler, that I often forget to chew.
Dining out, I relished concentrating on my meal alone instead of constantly worrying about what goes into my two year-olds mouth. Sipping a beer with my pub grub was a luxury as there is typically no place for alcohol with our early evening child-friendly meals. Adult conversation just made me feel like, well, an adult. There was no reciting and doing actions from The Wiggles, clapping whenever several mouthfuls got swallowed or counting out pieces of vegetables to get our girl to eat. It was tempting to clap when my friends finished their meals, but I managed to restrain myself.
When I first got back to my room at the lodge after dinner, I wondered what I might do for the rest of the evening. Long shower? Watch TV from bed? Read a trashy woman's mag?
In an effort to pack in as much as I could in my night away, I ended up doing all of the above.
Lights out at 11pm, I looked forward to eight hours of uninterrupted, blissful sleep.
I woke up cold at 3am and thoughts started up about my daughter being awake and my husband struggling to get her back to sleep back in Nelson. Eventually I coaxed the thoughts out of my brain, and I drifted off to sleep again.
When I awoke just a few hours later at 6am, I switched on the electric blanket and desperately tried to will myself back to sleep.
At 7.30am, I awoke somewhat disappointed that I didn't sleep like a log. Clearly I have lost the ability to sleep through the night.
Twenty-six and a half hours later I returned home. By then I was missing my girl and anticipated a joyful reunion. When I walked through the door she gave me a token glance and then carried on playing blocks with her daddy. Seems I wasn't as missed as I thought I would be. Fine by me, as I'm already planning my next night away.
Sunday, 19 August 2007
Yay For Dads!
"New Mum On The Block "
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter September/October 2007
One afternoon, after a lunchtime nap, Amelia and I woke up to the unmistakable smell of baking. Sure enough, hubby had a cake on the go. Amelia has had cake before, but treats of any kind are very occasional in this household. One of her favourite books of late is one from the Spot series about making a cake for Spot's dad's birthday. This afternoon in which the house was filled with the aroma of chocolate cake, Amelia made the connection. Cake was a hit, and it became her new word of the day. When we came back from an afternoon outing , “cake” was uttered very hopefully as she searched the cupboards, hoping to find some more. Even at dinner that night, veges and mince weren't quite as popular as usual. And “cake” was uttered even upon waking the following day.
These kinds of shared family moments are priceless. I am forever grateful that I am part of a family unit, that I do have the support of a loving husband. I cannot imagine what it must be like to parent alone. I do have friends and family members in this position and do not envy them one bit.
Although hubby and I tag-team through-out the week, we all breathe a sigh of relief when we get to Friday as the weekend is ours. Parenting together is much easier than parenting alone. I feel my stress levels drop when there are two of us at home. When we're here together we're able to use one another as sounding boards, to bounce ideas around and are able to relish precious family time. And it is so rewarding to see Amelia's eyes light up when she realises on a Friday night Mum isn't racing off to work, her course or anywhere else. On a Saturday moming, it's all smiles when she discovers Dad is at home when she checks on his side of his bed to see if he is there or not.
When we are all home together, there is a different vibe. Amelia has a spark to her and a cheekiness that doubles, or perhaps triples, when she has a captive audience of two. Some of Amelia's favourite family games include getting into bed together for a family cuddle – any time of the day. Or doing roly poly's in the lounge together. Or getting swung in the air between her parents.
I have undeniably been the favourite parent, for lack of a better description, all the way through. I have been the one who has been requested mostly, especially during the wee hours. However lately something has shifted. Amelia no longer fusses or cries when I leave the house. Sometimes I'm lucky to even get a “bye” from her. Now hubby can put her to bed when I'm home without any kind of a protest. I think she's gotten to the point where she's perhaps Mum-ed out by the end of the day and welcomes the time spent with her Dad in the evening. This is a very welcome shift for both hubby and myself.
Recently one wet Winter's morning, we went to Chipmunks and it was “Dees” (Amelia's word for daddy) that Amelia sought to romp around with. So “Dees” followed Amelia up into the play area, while looking like a bit of a contortionist with his six foot frame. Meanwhile I was left to sit and sip a cup of tea while they played. Shame. There are of course some consolations to being the second choice of parent at any given moment.
Although we are going through a phase in which it is difficult to leave Amelia with others, it is nice to see that it is her Dad that she clings to just as much as her Mum these days. We've come a long way in this household since assuring from the beginning that Amelia has had ample opportunities to bond with her dad. It is very rewarding to see that this has happened naturally.
This Father's Day, I want to thank my husband Kev for his on-going tremendous efforts as a dad. From changing nappies all the way through that have included the poo explosions of the newborn days to the solid rocks of today. For bathing Amelia and putting her to bed at night so I can work/go to Yoga/ go to my course. Or watch Shortland Street! For being a solid, steady rock for Amelia and I. And for being understanding and non-nonjudgmental during my less-than-perfect Mum moments.
I have only been apart overnight once from my daughter in the last two plus years. About four months ago when I went to Motueka for a night with some girlfriends. It was the break I needed. I was only gone for 24 hours but it was just enough time to feel like an adult, to feel like me, for a decent amount of time. And this weekend, as I go away with the girls again for a night in Blenheim, I know everything will be fine back here.
I do love that during the week I do see a number of Dads out there at the various groups Amelia attends. Dads add to the groups we go to. It is good for us Mums and great for kids to see Dads weekly who are very much involved out there. Happy Fathers Day to all the wonderful dads out there. Us Mums who are lucky enough to have your support couldn't do it without you.
Nelson District Parent Centre Newsletter September/October 2007
One afternoon, after a lunchtime nap, Amelia and I woke up to the unmistakable smell of baking. Sure enough, hubby had a cake on the go. Amelia has had cake before, but treats of any kind are very occasional in this household. One of her favourite books of late is one from the Spot series about making a cake for Spot's dad's birthday. This afternoon in which the house was filled with the aroma of chocolate cake, Amelia made the connection. Cake was a hit, and it became her new word of the day. When we came back from an afternoon outing , “cake” was uttered very hopefully as she searched the cupboards, hoping to find some more. Even at dinner that night, veges and mince weren't quite as popular as usual. And “cake” was uttered even upon waking the following day.
These kinds of shared family moments are priceless. I am forever grateful that I am part of a family unit, that I do have the support of a loving husband. I cannot imagine what it must be like to parent alone. I do have friends and family members in this position and do not envy them one bit.
Although hubby and I tag-team through-out the week, we all breathe a sigh of relief when we get to Friday as the weekend is ours. Parenting together is much easier than parenting alone. I feel my stress levels drop when there are two of us at home. When we're here together we're able to use one another as sounding boards, to bounce ideas around and are able to relish precious family time. And it is so rewarding to see Amelia's eyes light up when she realises on a Friday night Mum isn't racing off to work, her course or anywhere else. On a Saturday moming, it's all smiles when she discovers Dad is at home when she checks on his side of his bed to see if he is there or not.
When we are all home together, there is a different vibe. Amelia has a spark to her and a cheekiness that doubles, or perhaps triples, when she has a captive audience of two. Some of Amelia's favourite family games include getting into bed together for a family cuddle – any time of the day. Or doing roly poly's in the lounge together. Or getting swung in the air between her parents.
I have undeniably been the favourite parent, for lack of a better description, all the way through. I have been the one who has been requested mostly, especially during the wee hours. However lately something has shifted. Amelia no longer fusses or cries when I leave the house. Sometimes I'm lucky to even get a “bye” from her. Now hubby can put her to bed when I'm home without any kind of a protest. I think she's gotten to the point where she's perhaps Mum-ed out by the end of the day and welcomes the time spent with her Dad in the evening. This is a very welcome shift for both hubby and myself.
Recently one wet Winter's morning, we went to Chipmunks and it was “Dees” (Amelia's word for daddy) that Amelia sought to romp around with. So “Dees” followed Amelia up into the play area, while looking like a bit of a contortionist with his six foot frame. Meanwhile I was left to sit and sip a cup of tea while they played. Shame. There are of course some consolations to being the second choice of parent at any given moment.
Although we are going through a phase in which it is difficult to leave Amelia with others, it is nice to see that it is her Dad that she clings to just as much as her Mum these days. We've come a long way in this household since assuring from the beginning that Amelia has had ample opportunities to bond with her dad. It is very rewarding to see that this has happened naturally.
This Father's Day, I want to thank my husband Kev for his on-going tremendous efforts as a dad. From changing nappies all the way through that have included the poo explosions of the newborn days to the solid rocks of today. For bathing Amelia and putting her to bed at night so I can work/go to Yoga/ go to my course. Or watch Shortland Street! For being a solid, steady rock for Amelia and I. And for being understanding and non-nonjudgmental during my less-than-perfect Mum moments.
I have only been apart overnight once from my daughter in the last two plus years. About four months ago when I went to Motueka for a night with some girlfriends. It was the break I needed. I was only gone for 24 hours but it was just enough time to feel like an adult, to feel like me, for a decent amount of time. And this weekend, as I go away with the girls again for a night in Blenheim, I know everything will be fine back here.
I do love that during the week I do see a number of Dads out there at the various groups Amelia attends. Dads add to the groups we go to. It is good for us Mums and great for kids to see Dads weekly who are very much involved out there. Happy Fathers Day to all the wonderful dads out there. Us Mums who are lucky enough to have your support couldn't do it without you.
The Invite
Entered in 2007 Bank of New Zealand Katherine Mansfield Awards. (short story competition)
Fitting in with the crowd isn't always easy. Warning: some content may offend.
Tabatha looked down at the invitation lying on her desk:
Friday night. 8pm. BYO plate to match the theme.
And the theme?
Dildo Party
What the? Tabatha put her head in her hands and sighed. Why on earth had she being invited to such a thing? She wasn't even that “friendly” with Bronwyn, her supervisor, who was hosting the shin-ding. And she didn't particularly like Sue, Cindy or Chris – The Tight Threesome who would be there, giggling like silly things after just a glass of wine each. Oh god.
“I see you got the invite”.
Oh god. Bronwyn.
“Yes Bronwyn” she managed to say. “Thanks for that. I, um I...”
“You will be coming?” she said “It would be good for team morale if we could all make it. You know, all of us girls in accounts.”
Oh gawd, again. All of us girls in accounts. Well that was a hypocritical statement in itself, anyway. Sure, they were all members of the fairer sex but they weren't a team beyond sharing the same workspace. It was The Tight Threesome who went out for morning teas, girlie lunchtime shopping sprees, facials or a sneaky visit to the bar across the road. Bronwyn was a little older than the rest of them. A thirty-something who was content with family life. She was the boss, she was meant to be on the outer a bit. But Tabatha, she just wasn't a chardonnay-drinking, fashionista despite being around the same age as her work colleagues.
Tabatha's favourite pastime was watching reruns of Seinfeld, having a bubble bath and then going to bed before 9pm with a good book. She did that every week night. And in the weekends her best friend Heidi sometimes came round and they sat and watched a new release DVD with a pile of junk-food that they'd forbidden themselves from eating the week before. Yep, a week of living sensibly off the pyramid food group and then it was all blown in one night. Junk food was her vice, not alcohol.
Bronwyn was tapping her fingers now on Tabatha's desk. So what kind of an excuse is this one going to come up with? She's single, stays in nights so surely there's so other social invites likely to be penciled in her (LOL) – diary.
And Tabatha just couldn't think of a legitimate excuse. So she resigned herself to coming.
“Ok” she squeaked.
“Great!” said Bronwyn. “Just, you know, vamp it up a bit.” And she winked at her as she walked off. Oh great. Tabatha's entire wardrobe was pretty much a department store ensemble. Cheap, sensible clothing. What on earth was she meant to wear to a (god-awful) Dildo Party?!
Thank God for Heidi. Lunchtime the next day they were in one of the trendy fashion chain-stores, trying on some of the latest styles. Tabatha had on a mini-dress, Heidi a long jumper. It was the beginning of Winter and they were both standing there in their neon white, untoned and unwaxed legs. Add the lighting from the fluro bulbs in the changing room, and they looked truly hideous.
“How's it going?” The bouncing, petite assistant popped her head round the curtain. “That would look great with fishnets” she said to Tabatha, and then to Heidi “ And yours with a thick belt. Should I get you one? We have some fishnets in store too...”
“Ok” they both said. Minutes later, they looked a fraction better. But they weren't convinced. Then Tabatha recognised the unmistakable peels of laughter emanating from the next cubicle. Oh god – The Tight Threesome.
“You look hot”
“You look hotter”.
“No, we are all to die for.”
Hee, hee, hee.
Oh man, if they had American accents they'd have been cast into the movie Clueless. They were the Kiwi version of tacky.
Tabatha stepped out. Dammit, Chris was emerging from her cubicle in the same dress! Of course, she looked like a model in it in her size eight figure whereas Tabatha's curves gave the dress a more filled-out look.
“What a surprise!” Chris cooed “Fancy seeing you here!”
And then the three were all on her, like a hawk swooping in on it's prey.
“I've never seen you in a dress before”
“What's the occasion?”
Not entirely bitchy, but close enough.
Within minutes Tabatha and Heidi were out of the shop. They were going to have to work a bit harder to get something a bit more original. They ended up in a recycled clothing shop where Tabatha found a cute top and jacket that looked great with her jeans. Flag the dress, it wasn't her anyway. This was her version of vamping-it-up.
Tabatha was the last to arrive at the party. Clearly, everyone had had a few before she even turned up. And so when she walked in, no one noticed at first, so engrossed they were in company gossip. And the latest about Paris Hilton. The Tight Threesome weren't in agreement around Paris's fate. Chris thought she should be in prison, the other two did not. Of all the things to debate about in this world...
“Tabatha, how lovely to see you!” Bronwyn gushed even though it was 8pm on a Friday night and they'd only parted ways three hours ago at the end of the working day.
“Hi. Thanks” said Tabatha “Ah, where do you want this?” And Bronwyn looked down and smiled at the breasts she'd created out of chocolate marshmellows, stuck together with melted chocolate with jaffas as nipples.
“Hilarious!” she said, almost in disbelief. The Tight Threesome helloed her and then squealed too when they saw the chocolate boobs. Clearly they hadn't thought she was capable of being so risque. All the other plates were phallic shapes – penises in all sorts of guises. Most unoriginal, thought Tabatha.
An older woman, dressed in black leather (what else?) introduced herself as Charlotte. A well-groomed brunette, with red streaks, who said she was the host of a local sex-toy shop called Penny's. Tabatha knew the one as she'd made a point of avoiding it for the last fifteen years.
Charlotte clapped her hands and said in was time to begin. They all sat down, in nervous anticipation.
“I've put a catologue on each of your chairs. And I will simply be talking about each item in it. Mainly vibrators. But we do stock other items such as lingerie, hand-cuffs, edible undies – that kind of thing...” Nervous laugher from all. Charlotte proceeded to explain what was what.
The vibrators came in so many shapes and sizes, and some had some ridiculous names. Some buzzed, some whirled, some had scary-looking bits on the end of them. And some were insanely huge. They were passed around and they all marveled how lovely they were to touch – almost as good as the real thing. Tabatha's cheeks glowed red at that. She knew that they all thought that she hadn't of course – hadn't ever seen a real one. And they were right. She was brought up by her Mum since she was three years old so there had been no nudity from the male side of things in her house. She'd had two boyfriends in college but they'd dumped her once they realised she wasn't going there. She knew the question was coming. How to deal with this one? It would be all over work on Monday that she was a twenty eight year old Virgin. She skulled a glass of wine lying next to her. She remembered a DVD she watched recently – all she had to do was put in her name and tell the story as she remembered it.
“Donald, he was my first” she smiled “An older man. Much older.”
Bronwyn's mouth formed an “oh” and The Tight Threesome sat there in disbelief.
“You've never mentioned any, er, suitors before” said Chris, her arms crossed and in full interrogation pose.
“Well I couldn't could I” she almost whispered “He's married.”
There were lots of ooooooohs!
”Well, what happened? Didn't leave his wife for you love? “ Bronwyn touched her arm.
“No, no” said Tabatha, gulping back her second glass “I used him. Picked him because he was married. It wasn't about love for me. But poor Donald...”
Bronwyn and The Tight Threesome exchanged looks of surprise.
“Anyway, Oliver was my next conquest. He was French canadian. Loved the accent but too soppy for me. Poetry is overratred, you know. So, out the door he went. Next was Gary. Sport jock. Great in the sack. But boring as out of it. Next was Philip. Loaded he was. Foreplay was great at all these exquisite restaurants but I soon tired of the wining and dining – I wanted something more real. Which is, where I'm at today. You know, waiting for someone worthwhile. I've kissed too many frogs I'm sure you know what I mean girls...” she finished dramatically making sure she made eye contact with The Tight Threesome. They all nodded sympathically.
Browyn held up her ring finger “It's worth the wait girls” she smiled proudly as she waved her rocks around the room.
Had they really brought all that? Tabatha was shocked at herself. No wonder she'd steered clear of wine. Clearly her imagination went into over-drive on the stuff.
Chris was eyeing her suspiciously. “We've worked with you for two years and you've never mentioned any of this before...”
Tabatha held up her hand as if to silence her “I don't usually make a habit of kissing and telling. But I trust ladies that my secrets are safe in this room.” They all nodded though she knew damn well by Monday that her sordid fake past would be spread around the office as fast as chinese whispers in a playground.
Fitting in with the crowd isn't always easy. Warning: some content may offend.
Tabatha looked down at the invitation lying on her desk:
Friday night. 8pm. BYO plate to match the theme.
And the theme?
Dildo Party
What the? Tabatha put her head in her hands and sighed. Why on earth had she being invited to such a thing? She wasn't even that “friendly” with Bronwyn, her supervisor, who was hosting the shin-ding. And she didn't particularly like Sue, Cindy or Chris – The Tight Threesome who would be there, giggling like silly things after just a glass of wine each. Oh god.
“I see you got the invite”.
Oh god. Bronwyn.
“Yes Bronwyn” she managed to say. “Thanks for that. I, um I...”
“You will be coming?” she said “It would be good for team morale if we could all make it. You know, all of us girls in accounts.”
Oh gawd, again. All of us girls in accounts. Well that was a hypocritical statement in itself, anyway. Sure, they were all members of the fairer sex but they weren't a team beyond sharing the same workspace. It was The Tight Threesome who went out for morning teas, girlie lunchtime shopping sprees, facials or a sneaky visit to the bar across the road. Bronwyn was a little older than the rest of them. A thirty-something who was content with family life. She was the boss, she was meant to be on the outer a bit. But Tabatha, she just wasn't a chardonnay-drinking, fashionista despite being around the same age as her work colleagues.
Tabatha's favourite pastime was watching reruns of Seinfeld, having a bubble bath and then going to bed before 9pm with a good book. She did that every week night. And in the weekends her best friend Heidi sometimes came round and they sat and watched a new release DVD with a pile of junk-food that they'd forbidden themselves from eating the week before. Yep, a week of living sensibly off the pyramid food group and then it was all blown in one night. Junk food was her vice, not alcohol.
Bronwyn was tapping her fingers now on Tabatha's desk. So what kind of an excuse is this one going to come up with? She's single, stays in nights so surely there's so other social invites likely to be penciled in her (LOL) – diary.
And Tabatha just couldn't think of a legitimate excuse. So she resigned herself to coming.
“Ok” she squeaked.
“Great!” said Bronwyn. “Just, you know, vamp it up a bit.” And she winked at her as she walked off. Oh great. Tabatha's entire wardrobe was pretty much a department store ensemble. Cheap, sensible clothing. What on earth was she meant to wear to a (god-awful) Dildo Party?!
Thank God for Heidi. Lunchtime the next day they were in one of the trendy fashion chain-stores, trying on some of the latest styles. Tabatha had on a mini-dress, Heidi a long jumper. It was the beginning of Winter and they were both standing there in their neon white, untoned and unwaxed legs. Add the lighting from the fluro bulbs in the changing room, and they looked truly hideous.
“How's it going?” The bouncing, petite assistant popped her head round the curtain. “That would look great with fishnets” she said to Tabatha, and then to Heidi “ And yours with a thick belt. Should I get you one? We have some fishnets in store too...”
“Ok” they both said. Minutes later, they looked a fraction better. But they weren't convinced. Then Tabatha recognised the unmistakable peels of laughter emanating from the next cubicle. Oh god – The Tight Threesome.
“You look hot”
“You look hotter”.
“No, we are all to die for.”
Hee, hee, hee.
Oh man, if they had American accents they'd have been cast into the movie Clueless. They were the Kiwi version of tacky.
Tabatha stepped out. Dammit, Chris was emerging from her cubicle in the same dress! Of course, she looked like a model in it in her size eight figure whereas Tabatha's curves gave the dress a more filled-out look.
“What a surprise!” Chris cooed “Fancy seeing you here!”
And then the three were all on her, like a hawk swooping in on it's prey.
“I've never seen you in a dress before”
“What's the occasion?”
Not entirely bitchy, but close enough.
Within minutes Tabatha and Heidi were out of the shop. They were going to have to work a bit harder to get something a bit more original. They ended up in a recycled clothing shop where Tabatha found a cute top and jacket that looked great with her jeans. Flag the dress, it wasn't her anyway. This was her version of vamping-it-up.
Tabatha was the last to arrive at the party. Clearly, everyone had had a few before she even turned up. And so when she walked in, no one noticed at first, so engrossed they were in company gossip. And the latest about Paris Hilton. The Tight Threesome weren't in agreement around Paris's fate. Chris thought she should be in prison, the other two did not. Of all the things to debate about in this world...
“Tabatha, how lovely to see you!” Bronwyn gushed even though it was 8pm on a Friday night and they'd only parted ways three hours ago at the end of the working day.
“Hi. Thanks” said Tabatha “Ah, where do you want this?” And Bronwyn looked down and smiled at the breasts she'd created out of chocolate marshmellows, stuck together with melted chocolate with jaffas as nipples.
“Hilarious!” she said, almost in disbelief. The Tight Threesome helloed her and then squealed too when they saw the chocolate boobs. Clearly they hadn't thought she was capable of being so risque. All the other plates were phallic shapes – penises in all sorts of guises. Most unoriginal, thought Tabatha.
An older woman, dressed in black leather (what else?) introduced herself as Charlotte. A well-groomed brunette, with red streaks, who said she was the host of a local sex-toy shop called Penny's. Tabatha knew the one as she'd made a point of avoiding it for the last fifteen years.
Charlotte clapped her hands and said in was time to begin. They all sat down, in nervous anticipation.
“I've put a catologue on each of your chairs. And I will simply be talking about each item in it. Mainly vibrators. But we do stock other items such as lingerie, hand-cuffs, edible undies – that kind of thing...” Nervous laugher from all. Charlotte proceeded to explain what was what.
The vibrators came in so many shapes and sizes, and some had some ridiculous names. Some buzzed, some whirled, some had scary-looking bits on the end of them. And some were insanely huge. They were passed around and they all marveled how lovely they were to touch – almost as good as the real thing. Tabatha's cheeks glowed red at that. She knew that they all thought that she hadn't of course – hadn't ever seen a real one. And they were right. She was brought up by her Mum since she was three years old so there had been no nudity from the male side of things in her house. She'd had two boyfriends in college but they'd dumped her once they realised she wasn't going there. She knew the question was coming. How to deal with this one? It would be all over work on Monday that she was a twenty eight year old Virgin. She skulled a glass of wine lying next to her. She remembered a DVD she watched recently – all she had to do was put in her name and tell the story as she remembered it.
“Donald, he was my first” she smiled “An older man. Much older.”
Bronwyn's mouth formed an “oh” and The Tight Threesome sat there in disbelief.
“You've never mentioned any, er, suitors before” said Chris, her arms crossed and in full interrogation pose.
“Well I couldn't could I” she almost whispered “He's married.”
There were lots of ooooooohs!
”Well, what happened? Didn't leave his wife for you love? “ Bronwyn touched her arm.
“No, no” said Tabatha, gulping back her second glass “I used him. Picked him because he was married. It wasn't about love for me. But poor Donald...”
Bronwyn and The Tight Threesome exchanged looks of surprise.
“Anyway, Oliver was my next conquest. He was French canadian. Loved the accent but too soppy for me. Poetry is overratred, you know. So, out the door he went. Next was Gary. Sport jock. Great in the sack. But boring as out of it. Next was Philip. Loaded he was. Foreplay was great at all these exquisite restaurants but I soon tired of the wining and dining – I wanted something more real. Which is, where I'm at today. You know, waiting for someone worthwhile. I've kissed too many frogs I'm sure you know what I mean girls...” she finished dramatically making sure she made eye contact with The Tight Threesome. They all nodded sympathically.
Browyn held up her ring finger “It's worth the wait girls” she smiled proudly as she waved her rocks around the room.
Had they really brought all that? Tabatha was shocked at herself. No wonder she'd steered clear of wine. Clearly her imagination went into over-drive on the stuff.
Chris was eyeing her suspiciously. “We've worked with you for two years and you've never mentioned any of this before...”
Tabatha held up her hand as if to silence her “I don't usually make a habit of kissing and telling. But I trust ladies that my secrets are safe in this room.” They all nodded though she knew damn well by Monday that her sordid fake past would be spread around the office as fast as chinese whispers in a playground.
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