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female 8 thousand, 8 hundred and thirty six days thinking about her


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44 minutes ago, rebeljaffa said:

Two from two this week! Another winner. There's hope for everybody then, but eight thousand, eight hundred and thirty six is a very long time to keep the dream alive!!  I aren't even sure if I have that many days left 😂

There’s more to come on this one. One thing I can say is that this is based on a true story so there’s always hope. 

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The words pour out onto the paper so much easier than they ever come out my mouth, unless I’m singing and playing guitar that is. By the time I feel I’m finished it’s three sides of A4 paper and as I read over it I get nervous all over again. What if I’ve been too honest? I mean there’s definitely a line you shouldn’t cross especially after waiting over 24 years to tell someone something. But then I see a photo of my parents and myself on my bedroom drawers facing me. Mum always freely told me how she felt about me, how much she loved me, how proud she was of me even when I didn’t feel worthy of any of her praise. I, on the other hand, always found telling her I loved her so hard. It made me feel embarrassed and vulnerable and saying it out loud left me feeling exposed even though it was my mum. When she was in the hospice I wrote my thoughts down and read them to her but by then I could only just hold her hand as she was too weak to speak. Writing is just what I do. 

 

I fold the paper carefully, slide it into a matching envelope and leave it sitting unsealed while I go and make tea for dad and myself. We eat together in the kitchen, like always, and I clean up with dad and then leave him to his programmes and whatever else he does and take a tea to my room as always. I switch my computer on but then see the letter and reread it again and again. I know I could text her or call her but there’s stuff in the letter I just can’t yet say. I’ll post it in the morning. 

 

The problem is I can’t stop thinking about her. I pick up my guitar and write another song then just lie in my bed thinking and staring at the ceiling. What if I had just kissed her all those years ago? But what if I can rekindle that all over again and after finally kissing her today she’s still keen? What if she reads the letter and thinks I’m a freak? I mean what will she think hearing that her saying casually she needed to pee caused me to panic so much I had to race home before my body embarrassed me? She’ll think I’m a freak. I’ve blown it again! 

 

I seal the envelope by pulling the paper off the sticky top and pressing it down. Expensive envelopes are like that. None of this licking stuff. 

 

The next morning I walk back to the post office, buy an entire book of first class stamps and post the letter, pausing as I have my hand right inside the post box ready to change my mind. Then I go home, do some work and try to forget about her. Who am I kidding? I stare at the ripped piece of paper with her details on and do what everyone does these days: I google her! 

 

Oh my word! Oh my word! I read and read and read until my eyes are sore. So Heidi has been busy! Very busy! There’s nothing about her husband though, everything I read is about her or her children. She’s been right there, the exact opposite of hiding, in the local paper, even on TV and yet I never ever saw her. How was that even possible? She’s made a bit of a name for herself it seems. Writes a highly popular parenting blog and is very open and honest. Seeing photos of her just makes me admire her and feel drawn to her even more. Her smile, her different hair styles over the years, the depth and emotion of her writing. She’s everything I thought she would be and more besides. Amazing, wonderful, clever and so beautiful. She doesn’t need me. Why on earth did I even post that stupid letter?

 

Four days pass and I am getting more and more infatuated by her. I’m addicted to her public Facebook page even though I don’t have a Facebook account refreshing constantly in the hope she’ll post something else. I’ve started reading her blog from the very first entry. I laugh, and smile and cry at her journey. I feel I know her somehow. I write more songs and poems about her, how strong she is, how much I admire her, thanking her for making me feel so much happier even though her blog is clearly aimed at other parents like her. I won’t tell you all her story, though she’s written it publicly anyway, but she’s been through a lot, her children have too, but she’s not bitter, not sad. Just using her life and experience to help others while I stare around at my room wondering what on earth I have ever achieved in my life. She doesn’t need me. It was probably for the best we never kissed all those years ago. Probably for the best. 

 

Who on earth is phoning at this time of night? I glance at my watch as I race downstairs for the house phone to not disturb dad. It’s almost 10pm. He’ll be in bed. If this is a wrong number or crank call I will be so angry. Jeez…10pm! Seriously who phones someone at 10pm? 

 

Ah. Why do I not give her my mobile number? Oh…she got my letter. Ah…..

 

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Now I seriously don’t know what to do! Do I text her or call her or what? It feels like we’ve done something extremely naughty, very private and way too sexy together, but now what? Where’s the website or self help book that explains all this? I’m totally lost and like a deer in the headlights. I want her. Geez do I want her! But she has a life, she has kids, I have work. I can’t stop thinking about her but then I can’t stop worrying either! 

 

I wrote her more songs,plus a few poems and letters. Things I really wanted her to know like how beautiful the sunset was last night from my bedroom window the other day and how hearing birds chirping happily for no other reason than they are alive sums up exactly how I feel since we met again. She probably thinks I make all this up. Except I don’t. It’s just honestly how I feel. 

 

It’s the following Tuesday before I hear from her again. How can 7 days feel so long when I’ve been waiting over 8 thousand 8 hundred days already? I think it’s because I kissed her and then that phone call. I actually know she likes me now and that changes everything. It makes the infatuation even more consuming, if that’s even possible. It’s a text she sends (I actually gave her my mobile number on the phone call) in the morning asking how things are and thanking me for my letter. I’ve sent a few letters already so I really don’t know which one she’s just had. It takes me ages, well it feels like ages, before I try to work out what to text back. In the end I settle for ‘Good thanks, though can’t stop thinking of you. X’ Is that too forward of me? What if she’s with someone and they see it? Yikes. I hope I’m not dropping her in it. Maybe she just wants me as some fun, some bit on the side? I can’t blame her to be honest. From all I’ve read of her life online (though I’m well aware that anyone can put on a front even for the years she’s been blogging) she’s not been treated like she deserves to be. It definitely sounds like she’s raised her kids predominately on her own. Or maybe I’m reading into that? I just don’t know any more. 

 

I get a text back right away asking if I would like to go for a coffee again. Would I heck! I reply yes with sweaty palms, almost dropping my phone. I expect the next text to say when and where but instead it reads: 

 

‘Great. Just been listening to you singing again. I can’t get enough of that song “better than a million dreams” Was that really what you thought of me?” 

 

It’s only then that I suddenly remember what happened when I wrote that song, and I actually can’t believe I sent her it on email! She’d asked on the phone call and as soon as we hung up I sent it without even thinking. Can she tell what was going on? I seriously hope not! 

 

‘Absolutely! And I still do!” 

 

Shit. I’m too full on again. I know I am. I sound desperate…and in many ways I am! I can’t lose her though…not again! 

 

‘What about tomorrow at 10? Same place as before?’ 

 

‘See you there. Can’t wait. X’ 

 

I should be working! I’m getting behind on things and if I’m taking another morning off tomorrow I really need to get some work done. But all I can think of is Heidi…again! So I stick some music on and make myself a mug of tea and go into my office and start designing. That’s what I do. That’s what I have always done. Design and printing, that’s my life. That’s what Euan Frame does. I surprise myself by actually feeling energetic, inspired even, and I get designs completed for two very particular clients and send them both away. I deal with sone important emails, send a few invoices, then turn my computer off and check on dad. He’s fiddling with something in the kitchen, looks like a plug or something similar but he’s chatty, healthy, well as healthy as you can be in your late eighties, and alert. I offer him a coffee then make some tea for us both. 

 

“I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning dad. I should be back to make your lunch though. Don’t go making anything yourself though ok! Lynne will be about if you need her.” 

 

Lynne’s  the cleaning lady dad and I decided to get after mum died. I mean I can clean but I was trying to set up my business back then and dad was in bits and it was just one less things to worry about. Lynne’s great, though I keep out of her way. She’s great with dad too and he likes her so that’s fine by me. Anyway, at least when I’m meeting with Heidi I know dad won’t be left on his own. That’s a big relief. 

 

I don’t sleep that well on Tuesday night. I’m nervous as heck wondering how I look Heidi in the eye after our antics on our phone call last week and after all the things I’ve written to her. Is tomorrow even such a good idea? If she’s not interested or still with her husband then this has to be the end of it. My heart can’t take it otherwise. Then I start wondering what to wear. Suits trousers feel too formal but jeans give that air of I couldn’t be bothered. Neither feels right. Does it matter? It’s not like I’m going for a fashion show! But it does matter! Heidi matters. What she thinks of me matters! This is so hard. 

 

I get there early which just makes me even more nervous. I scan the car park for a small white car. There’s none there. Do I go in? And if I do do I order myself a coffee already or wait for her to come? This is why I don’t do dates. They are so confusing and stressful. I walk into the coffee shop and look around. I’ve met many a client in a coffee shop, though never this one. I don’t see anyone without a drink so I decide I should order first. Waiting in the small queue I can feel my hands sweating and feel the back of my neck tingling with nerves. I order a basic cup of tea and look around for a seat. I sit down and cradle the cup in both hands nervously so I don’t spill it and focus on the door longingly. 

 

What if she doesn’t come? Or even worse, what if she mentions needing the ladies here? Sitting close to her in public if that happens will not be good. She wouldn’t do that, would she?

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Then in she walks confidently and lovely, seeing me and waving.

 

I wave back just lifting my hand enough off my cup for her to see. I’m a very private man and huge waves are not my thing. I buy her a tea and we sit talking with me looking mostly at her hands much more than her face because all I can think about when I see her face is one that I want to kiss her again so much, and secondly what we did last week while on the phone. She talks more than I do, which is kind of how it was even 24 years ago, but that’s fine by me. In fact more than fine as I love hearing her talk. It’s definitely awkward though and there’s no mention of my letters or my poems or even our phone conversation at all. It’s all how her kids are doing, the roadworks in her town and how she can’t wait for all the Covid restrictions to be over with. I’m listening to every word but still avoiding looking at her too much. I get away with it by sipping my tea and nodding at the right times and Heidi seems to be fine.

 

But then my tea finishes and Heidi asks me something and I look up to answer her and see her face, shining, radiant, and beautiful. 

 

“So you said you were self employed now? What do you do these days then?” 

 

“Still print and design. Mostly for small businesses and that. A lot of social media adverts these days rather than printed brochures…and logos. I get a lot of logo work these days. What about you?” 

 

I kind of already know what she’s doing from her blog but I don’t want her to know I’ve been reading that…not yet. She might think I’m stalking her or something. I probably am really! She tells me about looking after her kids, and her elderly mum and how she failed her degree but went back later and completed it. That takes a lot of courage to do something like that. I’m once again amazed by her strength. She talks about the TV and radio stuff and the amount of newspapers she’s been in. I’m not surprised having read her stuff, though she seems very modest and in shock at it all. She clearly doesn’t see herself as I see her! 

 

When she’s finished her drink she puts her hand on the table. The first thing I notice is that she isn’t wearing any rings. Not one. I tentatively move my hand slowly towards hers. She notices and smiles and moves her hand nearer mine. It’s funny because we’ve kissed and we’ve got excited over the phone but yet here we are giggling about our hands touching. It’s childish and cute but I really don’t know what I’m doing at all. Our fingers touch and Heidi smiles at me. 

 

“So what’s your plans for the rest of the day then Euan?” 

 

“After here I’ll go home and make my dad some lunch then I will probably work for the rest of the day, What about you?” 

 

She shrugs. “Probably some lunch then housework before the school run. After the kids are home that’s it. I’ll be in until they go back to school tomorrow. How is your dad? How did he cope when your mum…you know?” 

 

Suddenly I feel I can talk to her about something I truly care about: my dad. She mentioned she cares for her elderly mum so maybe she will understand? I tell her how dad went to bits after mum died, how I did too. How we have a cleaner but dad refuses to get carers in saying he doesn’t need them but how I am doing more and more for him that is now just expected and how I worry what might happen if anything happened to me.

 

“Oh I understand that one Euan. So much. I worry about my mum and my kids and how they would manage if anything happened to me. It’s such a huge worry to carry around all the time. Like a heavy weight around your shoulders.” 

 

I knew she’d understand! Lyndsey and Helen and Molly, none of them had any idea. They thought I stayed at home for convenience, financial gain even, but it was never about that. It was, and still is, about supporting and honouring my parents and being there for them as they were for me. As I tell Heidi this she holds my hand tightly and looks right at me, her face full of compassion and care. 

 

“The world needs more men like you Euan. So…do you have an office or anything where you work from now?” 

 

“I have an office at home.” 

 

“That must have been handy with all that work from home stuff with the virus?” 

 

“I suppose. Thought there wasn’t much work during the lockdowns. I spent far too much time on my own playing guitar and stuff. All very boring…and lonely.” 

 

“It was a tough time wasn’t it? My kids seriously struggled and home schooling them was awful for us all, even with a degree in education! But yes the loneliness…geez that was really tough.” 

 

I see something in her eyes. Isolation maybe? A sense of this is just what life is like for me? Regret? I’m not sure. My thoughts are interrupted by a waitress who comes over for our mugs. 

 

“Can I get either of you anything else?” 

 

I look at Heidi unsure if she wants another drink but thinking I ought to be getting back to my dad soon, though at the same time not wanting to leave Heidi. 

 

“I’m fine thanks. I suppose I ought to get back to my laundry pile, my hoovering and tidying up. It’s been great seeing you again Euan. I hope we can meet up again?” 

 

How can we have went from kissing to sexy phone calls, letters and songs and poems to this? I’m no expert on dating but this..it’s not what I want and I’m guessing it’s not what Heidi wants either.Maybe I should kiss her? Or offer that she comes back to mine? 

 

Once again I chicken out though and instead walk her to her car. I’ll kiss her before she leaves, that’s what I’ll do. No-one watching us then. Plus I sort of need to pee myself I realise as I stand up. We can meet again. It’ll get easier. It has to. 

 

I walk her to her car, which is sort of ridiculous since it’s just two cars from mine in the small car park, and I stand there like an idiot while she unlocks her car and gets in. 

 

“Maybe I can call you later? If you’re not working?” 

 

“Yes. Yes. I’d love that.” 

 

I’m staring at her. I know I am but I can’t help it. I’m an idiot letting her go but what can I do now she’s in her car with her seat belt on? 

 

It’s like my mum is watching down on my all of a sudden as Heidi goes to start her car and it doesn’t catch. She puts her windows down looking embarrassed and upset. 

 

“I honestly don’t believe this! I was running late then all nervous about meeting you and I saw the light on but thought it wasn’t far. I’d be fine. Aren’t you supposed to get like 50 miles even after your light goes on or something?” 

 

“Sometimes. That’s mostly at optimum driving though at about 50 miles an hour on a motorway. You don’t get much extra in town driving at all. I think I’ve got a canister in my car. I can take you to get petrol if you’d like? I can’t leave you stuck here.” 

 

“Thank you. You’re my knight in shining armour Euan. Thank you!” 

 

“I’ve not done anything yet!” 

 

As I take the few steps to my car with Heidi behind me that sentence repeats in my mind. I haven’t done anything yet. Some coffee date this is! I really need to…I don’t know…kiss her? Actually I need the bathroom. That’s what I need. But Heidi needs petrol. I’d better take her to get that first. 

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I check my boot to find I do indeed have a plastic canister so I hold the passenger door open for Heidi and then get in the driver’s side. The nearest petrol station is less than a mile away and I tell Heidi to stay in the car while I go to fill the canister. I tap on the window just to check it’s unleaded petrol she needs then get some and pay. As soon as I get back in the car Heidi offers me money but I refuse to take it. I drive her back to Starbucks and pour the petrol in for her, all the time tapping my foot and debating going into the shop to use their bathroom. Heidi looks nervous though and cold. It’s February and wet underfoot where it’s been raining and there’s a cold breeze. Suddenly I have a thought. 

 

“This should get you to the nearest petrol station. Would you like me to follow you until you get there just to make sure you’re ok?” 

 

“Yes. Yes please Euan.” 

 

I nod, twist her petrol cap back on and take the empty canister back to my car. I hear her starting her car again and breath a sigh of relief. Getting back into my own car I feel another urge from my bladder but ignore it. I’ll be home soon enough now. Once Heidi has got petrol I’ll leave her and go back home to dad…and a toilet. 

 

I follow the little white car in the opposite direction to my house and indicate in unison to pull into the Esso petrol station on the main road. It’s then I have another idea. While Heidi fills her car at the pump I pop into the shop thinking they might have a loo but also because I really want to pay for Heidi’s petrol. I can’t see any sign of a toilet and I’m way too embarrassed to ask so I wait while Heidi finishes then I pay and walk out, way too shy to tell her what I’ve just done. I sit in my own car turning redder by the minute watching her going inside then looking out at me smiling. She comes back out and right over to me as I put my window down as she leans in taking me by surprise and kissing my cheek. 

 

“Thank you. You didn’t need to do that. But thank you. I’d offer you a coffee and some lunch at mine as a thank you but I know you probably want back for your dad. Maybe we can meet up again, my treat next time?” 

 

Having her face so close, feeling her breath on my face, her lips on my cheek, send shivers through me. I’m not thinking of my dad right now. Not even for a minute. Before I realise it I’ve blubbered something about ‘I’m sure my dad will be fine and he knows I’m at a meeting and…’

 

She winks and says to follow her home. I don’t tell her I already know the way. I looked up her house on google street map and worked out my way there the day she gave me her address. But still I follow her closely now, realising that I’m going to have to ask to use her bathroom when I get there. Coffee seems to just go right through me these days. Must be my age. 

 

Her house is tidy and welcoming looking but I’m so incredibly nervous now I am here and parked up. I also really need a pee now which isn’t helping my nerves one bit. I swallow a lump in my throat, get out my car and follow Heidi to her front door. She welcomes me in and I follow her through to her main room. I can’t help looking at her rather than her house as she quietly apologised for the state of the place. It looks perfect to me. Homely, comfortable and warm. Lived in like my parents. 

 

“Sit down. Make yourself at home Euan. A toasty ok? It’s so cold for sandwiches I think. What would you like with it? Tea or coffee or a cold drink.” 

 

“Emmm. A toasty and some tea would be great thanks.” 

 

I sit down on her couch but I can’t get comfortable because my bladder is way too full so I stand back up again looking for the kitchen. Standing at the doorway watching Heidi I cross my legs and mutter quietly under my breath. 

 

“I couldn’t use your toilet could I?” 

 

She doesn’t seem to hear me but then she turns a minute or so later to smile at me. 

 

“It’s so good to have you here you know. I know you can’t stay long but..” 

 

“Sorry. Heidi, is there any chance I could maybe use your bathroom at all?” 

 

“Of course! Feel free. It’s right at the top of the stairs. First door facing you.” 

 

Oh thank goodness! I feel so much better now. So much more relaxed. I really needed that so much there was no way I could have had lunch first! 

 

I come back down to see Heidi has made the tea and toasties and she’s smiling at me. A flirtatious, twinkly eyed smile that makes me weak at the knees. She’s even more beautiful  after 24 years that I could ever have imagined. I’m hungry but geez I want to kiss her yet again. I always seem to want to kiss her somehow! As she hands me my plate and drink I smile at her hoping she realises what I’d rather be doing. We sit opposite each other in the lounge with a coffee table between us. I can’t stop looking at her. I can’t stop wanting her so much.

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1 minute ago, rebeljaffa said:

That would be me!  Straight off for a pee, which has probably spoiled some of Heidi's fun, but now hoping that Heidi doesn't go to the loo!  Double standards, yeah I know! 😂

Given what she knows about Ewan I suspect she’s in no hurry to use her bathroom while he’s there ; 

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She seems nervous, moving more than you’d expect on the arm chair, sort of fidgety. I get it. I’m anxious and nervous too. I eat my toasty, she does too, and I drink my tea, and she does too. In between we’re talking and smiling and…well just looking at each other. I didn’t have this with the other woman. With them it was pleasant company, friendship. I was attracted to them all but not like this. Not anything like this. 

 

I ask about her home, the kid’s schools, anything to keep my mind off what it’s really thinking. But then she wriggles. I know that wriggle. I adore that wriggle. I’ve replayed that wriggle non stop for thousands of days. I can see it in her eyes, in her body language, in everything about her. She’s going to say it. Help me! She’s going to say it and I’m looking right at her, pretty much in touching distance of her, and we’re alone. Shit we’re alone! 

 

“Please excuse my wriggling Euan. I really should go for a wee.” 

 

Is she flirting? Teasing me? She knows what saying that does to me? She’s read my letters? I say the only thing that seems reasonable and wise in the moment. 

 

“Don’t let me stop you going Heidi. Not if you’re em…bursting.” 

 

I’m blushing. Geez I’m so hot, so uncomfortable, so hard!! Trying to hide it I sort of shift sideways on her couch trying not to fixate on her wriggling, her legs bouncing, her squirming. 

 

“But I’m enjoying you’re company…a lot. So, as long as you don’t mind, I’ll go a bit later maybe. Did I tell you how much I loved your sunset poem? And the one about the birds first thing in the morning? You are really talented you know. I always thought that, you know, back when you wrote to me all those years ago. I used to read your poems over and over and each time they just seemed to get better, deeper…more beautiful than the time before.” 

 

“Thanks. I sort of…I kind of..I still have all your poems too. Do you remember writing me a hand written book of some of your poems?”

 

“Oh goodness! Now don’t ever show that to the sites I wrote for now ok! I have a reputation to keep up. The last thing I need is for those to reappear after all those years!” 

 

“But they are timeless Heidi. I read them a lot still. You are an incredible writer you know. You write with such an understanding of life, such emotion, such power. I’m not at all surprised that you have so many followers.” 

 

“You mean on Facebook, Twitter and Wordpress? Wait…you’ve been reading my stuff? My page? My blog?” 

 

I nod nervously as she wriggles more, her foot now under her bottom and her back bent forwards. I’m in awe of her, transfixed by her…lusting after her so much I can hardly bare it. 

 

“I em..I googled you. Sorry.” 

 

“Oh. Well I guess that’s understandable. If you had a pound for every time I googled you, searched for you over the years, you’d be a very rich man I guess. I very nearly emailed your work too but so glad I didn’t now with you saying you left. That would have been so embarrassing! So…did you find out anything interesting about me?” 

 

“There’s a lot on the web about you Heidi. Photos from your blog and videos from your Facebook page and so many newspaper articles and TV clips. It was like seeing someone famous.” 

 

“I’m just a stay at home single mum Euan. It’s all just because my blog sort of took off. I never planned any of it. I had a couple of pieces go viral years ago and then some big sites asked me to write for them. Then another piece went viral just when the thing I wrote about was big in the news so the BBC contacted me. Luck I guess really. Then there was the thing my daughter did that blew up. I’m sure you read about that? It wasn’t planned. None of it was planned and the thing is once your name is out there, once you get followers and shares it’s like you’re on a rollercoaster you can’t get off. It’s actually quite a pressure at times. But then if it helps someone, if another parent feels less alone after reading my stuff, if society gets less judgmental of parents doing their best…that’s what keeps me going. It’s incredibly lonely being a lone parent.” 

 

The entire time she’s talking she’s wriggling around, bouncing on her heel, circling on it back and forth, changing positions and squirming so much. She must need to pee so much. I can only image how desperate she must be, how urgently she craves release, how powerful the urges are, and every bit of that is driving me stir crazy. So much so that I can’t keep still either as my hard penis throbs in my crotch begging me to touch it, stroke it, play with it. 

 

When she gasps and moans and presses a hand between her legs I lose myself, stand up suddenly, sweating. I step over the coffee table in one big swoop, grabbing her face with both hands, cupping her cheeks, as I kiss her so urgently, so deeply that my body is shaking. She reciprocates willingly and urgently moaning under her breath. After about a minute I pull back feeling a bit guilty and looking right at her.

 

“If you want to go for a wee I honestly don’t mind.” 

 

“Euan, I don’t mind that this turns you on. In fact I love it! It’s so much more intense like this, being bursting, having a full bladder. It…it tingles so much more…” 

 

I don’t let her finish talking as I kiss her again. This time even more passionately, more lustfully. I haven’t had sex with a woman for years but I equally don’t want to push too quickly. I so want to be a gent yet my body is screaming to take her, to fulfil her while she’s still so full. I mustn’t go too quickly…but she’s touching my body, undoing my trousers, unbuttoning my shirt…

 

8 thousand, 8 hundred and fifty days since I should have kissed her but didn’t and now…now…well I’ll leave you to work out the rest.

 

I didn’t get home until after 3 but dad just smiled at me as I found him in the kitchen washing up some dishes even though we have a dishwasher now. Maybe it was my smile that gave it away, or the aura that made me feel I was floating on a cloud, but dad, even my elderly dad in his 80’s, seemed to somehow know. 

 

“You met someone son?” 

 

“Yes dad. I have. You ok with that?” 

 

“About bloody time!” 

 

“Yes. Yes you’re right dad. I mean it only took me 8 thousand 8 hundred and thirty six days before I even kissed her! As you say, about bloody time eh!” 

 

He turns and grabs my shoulder affectionately. He might be slowly deteriorating and showing his age more now than ever but he speaks to me with such passion, such love, such care as he looks me right in the eye.

 

“Your mum would be so happy son. I hope she’s the one.” 

 

“I really think so dad. In fact she’s always been the one it’s just taken me a very very long time to find her again and make up for not kissing her back in 1997.” 

 

“Some things are worth the wait son.” 

 

“Absolutely dad. I couldn’t agree more. Fancy a cuppa?”

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1 hour ago, stinklerus said:

More would be most welcome if you have any ideas to continue!

Having slept on it I do feel this one is now finished and I will leave what happened next to the reader who can come to their own conclusion. Don’t worry I have loads more short stories planned when I get time.

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3 minutes ago, Mbgpeelover said:

Hearing your story gives me so much hope. 

We'd been to school together, never actually a couple but very close as young adults, but when she went back to uni one term she met someone...  20+ years later she messaged me 3 weeks after her marriage broke down. We had a date a week later. We kissed on that first date. Turns out we had both told colleagues each other was "the one that got away".

Never be afraid to tell someone how you feel, about emotions or about your fetish, whatever. Life is too short for regrets.

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2 hours ago, holdit247 said:

We'd been to school together, never actually a couple but very close as young adults, but when she went back to uni one term she met someone...  20+ years later she messaged me 3 weeks after her marriage broke down. We had a date a week later. We kissed on that first date. Turns out we had both told colleagues each other was "the one that got away".

Never be afraid to tell someone how you feel, about emotions or about your fetish, whatever. Life is too short for regrets.

I genuinely had a mystery poet and fell in love with him. The Christmas night out and stuff all happened too including him not kissing me and me having to go in to pee. The rest, sadly, is fiction but how I’d live it to happen. Obviously names, places of work, etc all changed. 

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Wonderful story! So much different from what we usually read here. More a love story than a pee-related story, despite the pee theme is still an important part of the plot.

Especially reading it is interesting, or even exciting, for an over 50-years old man, who has some memories from about 25 years ago. They come back since I've been 40. Although I am luckily married for over 20 years, I keep thinking of the situations that took place before I met the woman who later became my wife. I keep thinking what would happen if I were more more assertive, more firm. I somehow regret I haven't made use of the situations that took place. It's strange to me a bit but that's how I feel.

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4 hours ago, wether said:

Wonderful story! So much different from what we usually read here. More a love story than a pee-related story, despite the pee theme is still an important part of the plot.

Especially reading it is interesting, or even exciting, for an over 50-years old man, who has some memories from about 25 years ago. They come back since I've been 40. Although I am luckily married for over 20 years, I keep thinking of the situations that took place before I met the woman who later became my wife. I keep thinking what would happen if I were more more assertive, more firm. I somehow regret I haven't made use of the situations that took place. It's strange to me a bit but that's how I feel.

As a woman in her forties I get that so much. There’s not enough stories on here about more mature men and woman. I think I should help with that. 

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