5 posts tagged “manhunk”

Ya know, it's hard to conceive that I've only been in the UK for six weeks now. It feels so much longer then that.

The hunnymoon is over. It's buckle down and get ready to pay the rent time. The plastic has stopped working - and rightly so, after all it was only a matter of time that the banks back home gave up on me.

Today? 31st of March, planning a quiet as possible April, a travel buddy is planning to stop by this week, really wishing that I hadn't said anything. But hey, it's time to give back - right? I've been blessed with offers and many of which I have taken people up on during my travels, least I can do is share a bed for a few days. If worse comes to worse, I'll just invite myself to the manhunks place and invade. Bless him.

All the shit he has to deal with when it comes to me. It's a wonder he has managed to last this long and not put a foot out of place, well, except for that time I thought he forgot to pick me up from a mates place. Being the psycho-bitch that I am, I stormed off on foot, groceries and luggage in tow, cursing him the whole way home.

I find myself sounding more and more english as the days pass. I really don't want to, I like my aussiness, but I'm struggling. Just like rear and thighs. 11 stone. 11 freaking stone. Now, most half sane women wouldn't advertise that sort of information, but the frustration that attempting to pull a pair of jeans on caused on Saturday night was just too much to handle.

They got the thighs and just stopped. Lay down on the floor and suck your stomach in said one friend. Just keep squatting in them said another. I cried, the zip caught a very sensitive piece of skin. So then I pulled out the fat top and jeans and went on my way. Today? Today I start fresh. Healthy Dani. Good Dani. Going to tone up and loose all this weight Dani.

Oh, and on the travel horizon, I'm thinking Portugal in May. Braga, Lisbon and Fatima - suggestions?

The extra long weekend away with the ManHunk by the sea was wonderful.

Although I can't say I was expecting to be climbing hills and walking along cliffs, but the effort and the heart and chest feeling like it was going to explode were well worth it. He though never broke a sweat. Jerk.

The south coast of England is stunning. Dorset. And unlike home, everything (despite how far it looks on a map) is only ever a little bit away. We walked around Lulworth Cove up to Durdle Door and back again. Up and down the Jurrasic coast around Kimmeridge and up to Gold Down. Stunning. Then there was Swanage which was absolutely beautiful in its shore-side-ness and pier and sailing races. Werham with it's quaintness. Studland with its beach streaching for miles upon miles and Poole and fish and chips in Bournemouth and so much more.

The best part? The absolute awe of the place. This is why I am here again, it's proof that England isn't all bad. In fact, so far, it's only the people with grim ideals and opinions that bring this place down.

Conversations were had, and even though ground rules were laid and we both knew exactly what this would be, it didn't extinguish the sting when I was reminded. But, we still make plans, we're still there for the end of day wrap up and we still live in denial about any feelings existing.

So back to the grind, memories in hand.

I don't think I'm crazy.

 sure as hell hope the ManHunk doesn't think I'm crazy, but in hindsight of the past two weeks, I think he can be completly forgiven.

And his collected major brownie points for actually entertaining my crazyness.

What exactly am I on about? I miss my niece. Alot. And all I have wanted to do, is to spend a day playing with a toddler. So much so that I suggest we maybe kiddnap HIS niece - who is about the same age - for a day. I've even told him that the thought of running up to and just playing with strangers kids in the street has crossed my mind. For some reason I have noticed just how many kids there are in this town.

And him? Well he has even suggested we have dinner with his work mate who has two little adorable boys I could do some finger painting with.

Bless him. I give him a week before he starts running for the high hills.

It's hard to believe I've been here for a month. I just feel so busy all the time. Trying to plan eventful and cheap weekends so that I don't miss anything. My working week is my normality. 

Oh, and by the way, just to gloat a little more, we are going to Dorset for the easter break. ManHunk, me and a little cottage by the sea.

So, I could have - and I believe me I did - do all the day dreaming in the world but none of it was of any help.

Fresh off the plane I scanned the awaiting crowd for a familiar face, just quickly, then made my way to the train. It's not like I was expecting anyone, it just would have been nice. You know, to be swept off my feet, just like in the movies.

Fresh off the train, phone in hand, I'm informed that I don't - in fact - have a place to stay, or a job, or the money that is owed to me.

I sat there. Deflated. Cold. Without a clue. Had I packed the backpack instead of the suitcase, I would have just caught the next train to anywhere. But suitcases are so uncool.

So, off to the pub I went.

Beers for breakfast, shoes for lunch, a sparkley top for tea and good company to boot. I had made it through the first day without killing anyone, or myself. Perhaps things would work out.

And then it was Valentines Day. I totally played it down. That is after all what all the cool chicks do. We had dinner reservations and it took me forever to get ready. But I looked good. And when I saw the ManHunk for the first time since arriving, I felt good. I laughed and laughed and fell asleep in his arms laughing. Now that is what a knight in shining armour should strive to achieve. A whole heap of laughter. Yep, all the way to the point of exhaustion.

Then two days later came the big question. He tried to play it down, being the international playboy he is and all.

Hunk: "so, you want to be my bird?"

ahhh, such a way with words.

I thought about it. Freaked out about it. And then realised that he was looking slightly uneasy, maybe at the silence, or maybe because he needed to pee, either way I felt like I was put on the spot.

Me: "I don't know, I'm not keen on limiting my options"
Hunk: "oh I think you misunderstood, I meant be one of my birds?"

Blah to him.

He scares me. A man with a great career that he enjoys. A man who is stable? A man who, well, most women would love to have an opportunity to be with, and I, I feel inadequate?

What has the world come to?

I'll have to work on not letting on about the lack of confidence. All I need is....a job.

Alright, I like to day dream. Sometimes a lot. Sometimes my day dreams are harmless, most times they end up with me being disappointed. See it all just happens so fast in my head. The poor bastard has no time to catch up.

The latest day dream? I'll arrive in the UK and the escapades with the ManHunk will pick up where they left off and I'll enjoy the rest of my visa time there in butterfly bliss. He, of course, will spend the next year with a lovely /feisty /adventurous  lady on his arm. Namely me.

Despite the fact that jokingly he mentioned he would be an international play boy by easter. Fat chance. We all know men lie about these things. Right? What ever, my defense? I don't care.

There was a point here....

I am trying to find a place to live that isn't where I work. Live in pub jobs just aren't that great, especially if they come with their very own squatter and resident crazy grounds keeper who insists on leading people to believe he has some type of authority by wearing a business shirt to water the flowers. Crazy bastard. I know, I've been on the receiving end.

So I get an email about a house share. She's an older lady with a cat (you know, this could be handy, get some pointers perhaps?) and a spare double room only 3 miles from where I'll be working. But I can't inspect it when she wants me to, namely because I wont be in the country. So she sends me a lovely reply "If it's still empty by the 13th, I'll let you know".

Do you think she would have been so snotty had I said the truth about my arrival date? Seriously, who wants to be in transit for 24 hours and then go and check a house out? I want to have breakfast with my girlfriend, have a shower and  then go to the pub for lunch and a bottle of white wine. I'm just asking for it aren't I? Maybe I don't want it bad enough, either way, today the day dream seems a little further out of reach then the usual impossible.