Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 6 degrees, bitterly cold and grey.
It is my mother’s birthday, and I must be a good son and do the right thing.
As I have always said, my mother was, is, and has always been a difficult person. Perhaps, in the last 20 years alone, she has paid her debt to society and the family.
I got up early, did some exercise, and prepared to go out. The local florist opens at 9:00 a.m., and I was early, as always, at 8:30 a.m. So, I walked around the grounds of the local church to pass the time, and by 8:50 a.m., I was standing in front of the florist. They were putting everything outside in front of the shop to display for passersby.
A few minutes before 9, I went in as another customer had already entered and was making a purchase. I had already seen and chosen a bouquet that was already wrapped. I asked the shop assistant if they had roses in stock, and I requested four loose roses: three yellow and one red.
After leaving the florist, I walked to the local café on the green, where my flirt would be working. I entered, it was 9:30; the cafe was relatively empty, with only one couple at a table, and the owner, Jim and Julie were working. I put all my stuff on the table and approached the counter at the back of the café, holding the four roses.
As it is the International Day of the Woman, I asked Julie if she was a woman. She said yes, of course. I also asked Jim, who is Scottish; I think he didn’t seem to get the joke or appreciate the comment very much. Still, I handed the roses over to Julie and told her that the red rose was for her and the yellow ones were for all the other girls who work at the cafe, including the owner’s wife, Jo.
I think Julie was pleasantly surprised; she thanked me, and everything was good. She was wearing a new black pair of jeans that highlighted her bum, her curves and legs very well. Her all-black uniform, paired with her white complexion and fine blonde hair braided in a small part at the back, matched her perfectly; she looked stunning.
I had my coffee, the chatter came and went, and everything was good, but I had noticed that when I am with her, I feel nervous. I wouldn’t go as far as butterflies in the stomach, but sometimes I feel awkward, cumbersome, and a bit of a dick when I’m with her.
I had to go because I had a 10 a.m. class.
Just as I was leaving, I cancelled it because I knew I wouldn’t be in the right frame of mind to give my mother flowers, tea, and attention. When I arrived home, my mother was already awake, so it was good that I had cancelled.
I made my mother a tea and took it, along with the flowers and her card, upstairs to her bedroom. She was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed and was surprised by all the presents and attention. I think she liked the card and the flowers; she is my mother, and it’s her birthday, so she deserves it.
Later, I bought the tickets to see Dune 2 for Saturday night with Julie at 7:00 p.m. I bought them online, so one more thing is resolved. Julie had asked me in the cafe earlier to do it, and I said yes, of course. I thought it would be better, rather than too late, and it being sold out; imagine that.
My mother and I went for lunch in Wollaston, the small village where I spent most of my childhood. It is an upper-class village that, to this day, remains quite beautiful, with its small central part and all the other beautiful streets leading off.
The idea was to first go to the ALDI supermarket and do the weekly shopping, then have lunch at the small cafe restaurant next to the supermarket, but as we had gone by taxi and the taxi took too long, we thought it would be best to have lunch first, my mother appreciated it and after we did the shopping.
It’s not raining, it hasn’t rained for quite some time, but it is bitterly cold, too cold to go out much. At home, I had to give some classes and do some housework to please my mother, but what was really interesting for me was that Julie and I spoke, conversed, and caught up on everything during the afternoon and evening.
From just a flirt came a connection. This connection has sparked various emotions; these feelings are very good for our self-esteem. It is pure cocaine, not that I’ve ever taken cocaine. We soar high on the wave of feeling good and ecstatic, having connected with that special person I had never known six months ago.
Now that person is in your life, your blood and your support system that you may want to turn off, get it out, and not be so dependent on it, but it is hard. However, controlling it is of the highest importance.
Don’t fuck it up, Richard!
We spoke before going to bed, like we had spoken almost all afternoon, it’s as if it’s a drug, and I am high!
In bed by 11:00 p.m.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
