Smoking Dick got back from the States yesterday. Imagine my surprise when he arrived on my doorstep, when I thought he was only returning at the end of the week.
As usual, I was looking amazing. As one always does, when caught by surprise.
Like that one time I stood on the back of an ex’s heel in stilettos (yeeouch) at the Manhattan Club completely by accident - and him whipping around in agony to 2:00am make-up sliding down my face, tangled hair, and a missing earring. All while making a not-so-sober attempt to dance like a cool person for once in my life.
(“I’m sho shorry, are you alri…oh hello. There.”)
Dick emerged just as I’d finished an epic cycle, had Chasy Chestnut hair dye setting in my crowning locks, and a blue face mask on.
Looking like strawberries and cream. One always fantasises that when you bump into an ex boyfriend, or when your dude returns from a faraway place, you’re looking like the beverage equivalent of a champagne kir. Not a warm cane and cream soda.
Well I was all wet and wrapped in a towel, so minus the blue face, it could’ve been worse. He took his shirt off to hug me because my hair had just emerged from the shower.
What a fantastic surprise – it was great to hold and kiss someone again. We went through a pretty darn rough patch before he left, and yesterday, all of that seemed distant and petty.
He also came bearing gifts. I fucking love presents. A Fossil watch! And a blingey Liz Claiborne silver initial (of my real name – P for Penelope of course) for my bag. They’re both beautiful, so I’m rather chuffed. Bless his motherlode of doondies.
Being relieved of a pent-up shag was also rather super.
Trivia question: What’s better than Make Up Sex?
Reunited Sex, that’s what.
Where you don’t want to be all sadomasochist due to pent up resentment, but rather just devour the person because you haven’t smelt their skin and, you know, done stuff with them for so long.
I managed to wash off the face mask before that moment, in case you were wondering.