Stuck In The Friend Zone

credit: http://www.azurah.com

“The Friend Zone”, contrary to popular belief, it’s not only men who get stuck in that dreaded place.  I’m currently in the zone with a guy who I think would actually make great boyfriend material, and it sucks – big time.

I’ve known this guy, lets call him ‘Dutch Dude’ (gimme a break, he’s Dutch and I’m running out of pseudonyms), for approximately seven years now. We first started talking back in the days when social networking site Blackplanet.com was the big thing. It was so long ago that I can’t even remember how or why we started talking but I do remember that our messages moved from Blackplanet to Myspace to email. Lots of general chit chat, a bit of harmless e-flirting, exchanging photos, sharing stories. Years passed and we stayed in touch.

The One I Thought Could Be ‘The One’ (Part 3)

This was supposed to be one blog post. Next thing I knew I couldn’t stop typing. I realised I had more and more (and more) to share and because I’m not keen on ‘too long’ blog posts The One I Thought Could Be The One ended up being split into parts one, two and now three. I didn’t start off wanting to create the cliffhangers worthy of a soap opera, it was just a case of wanting to make it more easily digestible. (If you’re reading for the first time, this will make more sense if you read parts one and two first. Just saying!)

Anyhoo, if you remember, I left off wanting to slap the living daylights out of the drunken friend of a co-worker for shouting “Show us your cock!” to ‘my guy’ in the middle of a lovely Moroccan restaurant. But, at the end of the day, that’s just not my style. I’ve never been that ‘roll up my sleeves, remove my earrings, I’m getting ready to give someone a beatdown’ aggressive type of chick. What made it even worse was the fact that the rest of the group (who were also crazy drunk) started whooping and cheering, and he (The Potential One) played up to the attention by jokingly undoing his jeans. None of this amused me. Maybe I was just too sober, maybe I was just being too sensitive but either way, I was just hella pissed off.

One of my work colleagues (one who knew me quite well) could see the invisible steam coming out of my ears so she swiftly whisked me off to the ladies to talk to me (and to make flimsy excuses for the drunk girl) before a screaming/shouting match could take place. Yes, I know that alcohol makes people loud and bolshy, but seriously…

• She didn’t even work with us, this trip was the first time she had met me. She really didn’t know me like ‘that’.
• What she did know (and should’ve respected) was that we were there together, as a couple.
• She was nearly 10 years younger than me, have some respect for your elders beeyotch!
• She was so drunk she didn’t even realise how mad I was. She went on to continue to embarrass herself, this was the night she launched herself at the terrified/embarrassed Moroccan waiter.
• Why did she not say it to any of the other guys in our group? Maybe she’d bought into the whole black guy= big dick thing and curious to see for herself?
• My guy was definitely the hottest in the group, but damn, have some decorum and control yourself lady.

The tenseness within the group disappeared after approx half an hour and once The Potential One realised how upset I was he turned on the charm to make me feel better. We all got back to having a good night. Lots more sickening PDAs, more bombdiggy nookie that night back at the Riad followed by a lovely, relaxing last day in Marrakech where we finally separated from the group and did our own thing. The two of us travelled to Gueliz, the modern district of Marrakech (McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Zara etc) for our last day. (And yes, I did take Miss-I-Want-To-See-A-Black-Cock aside for a ‘talking to’ once she was sober fyi)

Gueliz, the modern district of Marrakech.

The New City - lovely, but expensive.

We got back to England and we all went our separate ways.  Little did I know that was going to be the last time I saw him (that year).

He flew back to The Philippines for more work related stuff but this time I noticed I wasn’t hearing from him as much as before. We spoke and we emailed, but after a while it became apparent that I was the one instigating the conversations. So, I pulled back. I hoped that it was just because he was busy sorting out his company.

I called him around Christmastime, lo and behold he was back in the country. I knew that things had changed but all I wanted to do was meet up with him, talk and find out what happened. We made plans to meet for a coffee just before New Years Eve. Except he didn’t show. And he didn’t answer his phone. Even though I knew the incident in Marrakech was a stumbling block, I didn’t realise it was enough to end everything.

To this day, I still don’t know if that was even the reason. Was it because of Marrakech? Was it because he was distracted with work and having to fly back and forth to the Phillipines? Was it something else? Who knows. I sure don’t. All I do know is that he was someone I was really excited about, we had loads of laughs and so many fun times together. I saw so much long term potential in him and considering that when I was in Cuba he reminded me that ‘I was spoken for’, he must’ve seen potential in me too, right?

The One I Thought Could Be ‘The One’ (Part 2)

After I got back from that amazing long weekend in Barcelona with ‘The Potential One’ (Good nickname to give him, no?), things carried on pretty much the same as before. Spontaneous after work meet ups turning into sleepovers. Lots of eating out at lovely restaurants. Lots of great quality time together. But then, as always when everything is too good to be true, a spanner was thrown in the works. A spanner in the shape of his family business. He had to fly off to the Philippines, and stay there for weeks, to sort out business related stuff.

It was okay though. We stayed in touch. Lots of emails and the occasional phonecall too. Lots of making plans about things we were going to do when he got back and boy, did we have plans. Through doing hitting targets at work, I’d won a trip for two to Marrakech in Morocco and being that he’d taken me to Barcelona, of course I returned the favour by asking him to come with me. In all honesty, at the time, there wasn’t anyone else I’d rather have come with me anyway. Being the little jet-setters that we were, the day he got back from the Philippines was the exact same day I flew to Cuba to celebrate my 32nd birthday with a friend. We were like passing ships in the night, he landed and I took off on the very same morning. There was just about enough time for a quick “welcome back” and “have a safe trip” phonecall before we were on different continents again.

The Caribbean Ocean from Cayo Coco, Cuba

My trip to Cuba was beautiful, but thanks to Hurricane Paloma, it could have been a lot better.  Bitch-ass hurricane resulted in all flights being cancelled and my birthday weekend in Havana being ruined, but it was okay, I had Morocco to look forward to. I spoke with him via email while I was in Cuba. He joked about making sure I was behaving myself with the Cuban boys, because I was ‘spoken for’ now.  We’d only known eachother for two months but I didn’t mind one bit that he’d said I was ‘spoken for’. In fact, I kinda loved it. That’s how much I was into him. Even my favourite Cuban guy (Laz Alonso…. hello!) could have made a pass at me and it wouldn’t have mattered! (Well….  maybe it would’ve mattered….but you know what I’m trying to say ;-))

We went to Morocco just a few days after I got back from Cuba. (I was one hot jet-setting mothertrucker back in 2008!) Except this time, our trip was different. I was rewarded with this free trip for hitting targets at work, and so too were some of my co-workers. Meaning this time around it wasn’t just me and him alone, we had six other people along for the ride as well. Everyone loved him, he fit into the group seamlessly. I was a bit disappointed not to have him all to myself but our area of Marrakech was a bit ‘dicey’ so, in a way, we felt safer as a group. There were lots of group meals, lots of jokes and laughter and LOTS of alcohol consumed, by some more than by others…

The Riad plunge pool at night

Petals on the bed and everything *wolf whistle*

Overlooking the Riad courtyard

Please bear in mind that the country of Morocco is an Islamic state located in North Africa. Also bear in mind that although our Riad was gorgeous, as mentioned previously, the area wasn’t so great. To me that means we needed to be careful. To my work colleagues, however, it meant they should drink themselves silly in a country where alcohol is frowned upon and not even widely available. Don’t get me wrong, I do love a drink (or six) when I’m on holiday BUT I keep it relative to my environment. Being in an unfamiliar country, a country with completely different values, a completely different set of rules, automatically means I’m going to be more careful. Not my colleagues though… one of the girls in our group got into a loud screaming match with a doorman who said her boyfriend couldn’t go into a bar because he was wearing shorts, another girl got so drunk she was flirting with/trying to snog the face off of a really uncomfortable looking Muslim waiter (so disrespectful!), the same chick also thought it was okay to run around the Riad telling all of the other guests that she loved them. This same girl (who by the way, didn’t even work with us, she was a guest of a colleague) was overcome with the urge to drunkenly shout at my Potential One “SHOW US YOUR COCK!” one night at dinner. I was not impressed, in fact, what I really wanted to do was slap her across her disrespectful face…

The Koutoubia Mosque

Gorgeous blue skies

Overlooking the Souks

Next, the ending. TO BE CONTINUED…

The One I Thought Could Be ‘The One’ (Part 1)

I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. Naturally, blogging about dating and relationships, has made me think about how my past experiences have shaped the way I am with men now. Having recently blogged about being celibate and about having issues… it all brings me back to thinking about him.

The whole thing was a whirlwind. We first exchanged messages on DatingDirect.com on a Sunday and our first date was on the following Tuesday. Speedy. No messing around. No wasting time sending messages back and forth for weeks before meeting up. Turns out it would be one of those ‘very intense, very fast, but burn out very quick’ types of romances. And boy, was it was romantic…

Date one. Meet for drinks. Lots of laughter, talking, flirting and by the end of the night, (slightly drunken) kissing.

Date two. Out for dinner, more great conversation, crazy chemistry, crazy flirting, more (not so drunken) kissing.

Date three. Picks me up from work (looking all kinds of hot in his suit) and we go to his place. He cooks an amazing three course meal, like nothing a guy has ever done for me before. Yep, more kissing. Got pretty heated that night, we even progressed to dry humping. (Oi, don’t laugh, you can’t beat a good bit of dry humping y’know. 😉 )

*Sidenote: Date three, he asks if I want to go to Barcelona with him for his birthday in a couple of weeks time. His family own a villa on the outskirts of Barcelona. Me; I’d never been on holiday with a guy before and I’d only known him for two weeks but fuck it, I’d always wanted to go to Barcelona!

Date four. Lasts the whole weekend. We go to a comedy show and have lots of laughs followed by Chinese takeaway at his place on the Saturday night. I stayed over and Sunday kinda went like this:

– Wake up
– Sex
– Watch back to back epsiodes of 24 in bed – turned out we were both major Jack Bauer fans
– Get up around 4pm, shower, go out to a lovely restaurant for dinner
– Back to his place, more back to back eps of 24 accompanied with popcorn and red wine
– More nookie
– Sleep

(It was a pretty damn awesome day, even if I do say so myself)

Date five onwards – that was pretty much us until we went to Barcelona. We had easily slipped into what I could only assume was ‘couple-y’ behaviour but we hadn’t even known eachother for a month yet. I used to go to work from his place at least twice a week, he came to a friends BBQ with me, I met his brother and sister. I thought we had something, I totally saw potential. Even my Mum and Dad were getting excited, bless ’em.

By the time our trip came around, we’d know eachother for a month. Barcelona was AMAZE-BALLS. There was no need for my worries about going away with a guy for the first time. We got along SO well. We stayed in the villa on the outskirts of Barcelona for the first two nights and then travelled into the city and stayed at a hotel for the last night. We celebrated his 31st birthday in style and we had so much fun. SO much silly laughter. Lots of romantic holding hands whilst walking along the beach moments. Lots of great food (he loved eating out as much as I did), lots of wine… and lots of sex. Mind blowing sex. Sex like I’d never experienced before. It was the most amazing break, EVER! I liked him, and what was brilliant was that he liked me too. Or at least so I thought…

Looking out from the villa...

Looking out over the pool

The gorgeous lobby of the hotel in Barcelona

The 13th floor pool at the hotel overlooked the ocean

Barcelona Port

La Rambla, Barcelona

We watched the sun go down over Barcelona

Sounds incredible, right? No signs of anything bad. No obvious reasons as to why he would suddenly start freezing me out of his life?

Next, our trip to Morocco. TO BE CONTINUED…