“Just a minute!” I loudly call as I hear banging on the front door of my pre-booked love nest. My romantic wilderness mini break is so far proving unsuccessful in the romance department. However, the ‘cottage’ is definitely nest-like. Everything about it, and contained in it, is made of wood.
My blonde hero, the Station Master from the little country town I have had the misfortune to be rudely abandoned in, was now lying in a closet in the bedroom. I had pulled him there earlier by his perfectly formed, muscular, tattooed arms. He had unfortunately not gained consciousness after falling on the floor in a swoon at my obvious charm and beauty. Of course, my Thai courting ritual moves may have had something to do with it as well. I had only ever practiced them on inflatable men so could never be truly sure of the effect. To awaken my sleeping prince I performed my customary love dance where I twirl, booby shake, bunny hop and jazz hands with grace and flair. I even ended in the upside down prairie dog pose, but to no avail. So you can imagine my anger at the disturbing knock at the door whilst my knight in shining armoire is snoring happily away in the boudoir, awaiting an awakening kiss from me.
The knock came again with more urgency and a shout of “Hornbag4U, are you in there? Let me in!”
Oh no! It’s ‘Pumped69’, my date from the singles website that was to meet me at the Dungaree railway station. Bellowed by a sexy, young and drunk lumberjack, my screen name did not sound as provocative as I had hoped it might. Damn, now he shows up! I let him in, slowly opening the door to a middle-aged balding man holding a pot plant. Hmmm.
He starts to explain that he may not look exactly as he described or indeed at all like his profile picture. Can’t say I’m surprised really. Decide to give him the ‘ol Heave-Ho’ (quite the opposite to the ‘ol Gung-Ho’), when ‘Pumped69’ produces a case of my favourite vodka. He is saved from my wrath. For now.
To Be Continued….
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