I’ve just got back from 5 days in Spain with my son for half term. I took him away on my own because I wanted some quality time with him. It was great, he had an amazing time and so I had an amazing time, but I felt a little bit off beat for the duration of the holiday for a few reasons. Firstly, I just felt so ugly. I think it had a lot to do with not going to the gym. The gym is so important for my mental health, I try to go daily if I can because I find it a lot easier to stay happy when I’ve got my endorphin’s going. I put on weight in Amsterdam last weekend and I put on even more weight on this holiday. Women look sexy as fuck in all shapes and sizes and so I’m not fat shaming, but I don’t carry too much extra weight well, I spent years being fat, and so I personally don’t like being overweight, it makes me dislike myself.
We went all-inclusive and mainly ate from the hotel buffet, I don’t know why I do this with buffets but I can’t just have one normal meal, I feel like I have to try everything and so I have about 5 plates full of the most weird mix of foods, and breakfast every day is a Full English, so the combination of my crazy food choices and no exercise meant that I gained at least a stone a day, or at least I felt like I did.
The other thing that made me feel really gross was that I just could not seem to tan. Granted, I was covering myself in factor 50 kid’s sun cream every 30 minutes, but still, there were little ginger children with better tans than me and I was freaking out about it. I did a fake tan the night before the holiday but it literally just slid off completely as soon as I jumped in the pool, I was not even left with one tiny orange patch. Nothing. Just my milk bottle legs in all their glory. I should have had a few sunbeds before I went but I forgot and so I was in full on winter body mode in a bikini feeling like a combination of Bianca and Sonia from Eastenders. That’s how bad I felt. I became obsessed with looking at everyone’s tan and wondering if they knew how lucky they were to be brown. I literally developed a raging obsession with tanning and the more I thought about it, the whiter I became.
I forgot my razor too, I shaved my legs the night before we flew but I forgot to pack it and so my legs were stubbly as well as white, and not just stubbly, there was a patch of hair on my knee that I have obviously missed every time I have shaved for the last 3 years because these were like, full on hairs, and I could not stop feeling conscious of them, I felt like they were flapping every time there was a breeze. They were really bothering me.
And to top it all off, on the last night when we were in the shower my little boy said ‘Ooh Mummy, why have you got loads of spots on your bum?’ I freaked immediately and ran to the mirror. He was right, I had four big red bumps, 2 right on my bum crack and two further down near my thighs as well as a few little ones dotted around elsewhere on my large behind. I couldn’t work out if they were bites but they didn’t feel like it and I reckon it was more likely that I got them from sitting around in a damp bikini all day. I don’t know, whatever they were, they upset me a lot and added to my feelings of absolute self-hatred, even though absolutely nobody is seeing my naked bum at all these days so it is quite a moot point, but I felt grotesque anyway.
All of that was compounded by this sense of loneliness that I felt at night, I’m always harping on about the fact that I am contentedly single, and that I’m not looking for a man, but I did not feel content on this holiday. My son is a little raver like me and so the highlight of his holiday was the mini disco every night in the hotel bar. His moves were fucking hilarious, as were a lot of the other kids. I looked around at all of the parents, 99% of whom were in couples, and I felt a pang of sadness. They had someone to share it with, they were sitting together laughing at their kids and feeling proud of these little beings that they had created together and I was just there making videos to send to his Dad. For the first time in 5 years I longed for him. I wanted us to be doing this together. In reality I wouldn’t touch him with a barge pole but by God did I miss him. Maybe it wasn’t even him that I missed, maybe it was just that sense of love and familiarity. I don’t know, but I really felt like I did not want to ever do this on my own again.
It made me feel sad that it didn’t work out with my last guy. It made me really wish that it had gone somewhere, it is still mad to me that it didn’t, considering how intense our initial connection was. When we were talking before the first date I was just so sure that something was going to form between us, we got on so well. That kind of connection really doesn’t come along often and when it does it usually always goes further than a first date. I was thinking back to the last time I met someone who I felt that way about.
It was August last year, I was feeling a bit low and lonely after the last guy that I was seeing had turned out to be another fuckboy, and so when I met him, he firebombed my soul in a way that I had not experienced in years. His name was Callum and I thought I had manifested him.
I have written before about how I made friend’s with Emma, a woman I met on Instagram. We didn’t know each other but she posted something about having a degree in Psychology like me and getting constantly rejected by employers so I Dm’d her and offered to help her write applications and we ended up spending hours on the phone over a number of weeks until we got her applications perfect. We ended up becoming friends as a result, I wasn’t helping her to get anything out of it, I just wanted to help. But when she finally did get a job, she tagged me and another friend of hers in a Facebook post thanking us for our support. I don’t know why but something told me that I should look at the other girls page because I knew that there was going to be a hot man there waiting for me, and lo and behold, there at the top of her friend’s list was Callum. I thought that the fact that I had found him because of helping someone else was my good karma, the Universe had clearly sent him.
He was fucking hot. Great pics, great clothes, banging tattoos, chiselled jaw, mixed race, tall, pretty lashes, perfect beard, just exactly the way they all look (I’m going to stop describing them in future blogs – just know – that’s what they look like) I stalked his Facebook for a bit and it was clear that he didn’t have a girlfriend, plenty of ‘I’m single and you’d have to be amazing to change that’ type posts.
Watch out for those posts, they scream ‘I’m never going to commit to you but I want you to see this as a challenge and perform like a circus monkey in an attempt to show me how great you are’. Allow it. Don’t fall for it. Issa trap. Anyway, I was much less wise last August and his Facebook showed him as a devoted Father, he had a daughter the same age as my son, and he just came across as interesting, a massive foodie, a Labour supporter, a smart guy who was into the same things as me, and so I decided to send him a message. I didn’t want to say:
‘Hey, the Universe has sent you to me because I helped some girl get a job, she tagged me in a post with one of your FB friends and I knew that she would have a buff mixed race friend and so I found you and stalked you and now I’m here, do you wanna be my boyfriend?’
So instead I said:
‘Hey, you came up on my explore page as someone I might know but I am sure that I would remember you if I knew you (I think I used some flirtatious emojis too)’
He messaged back straight away saying:
‘Wow, I definitely don’t know you but I would really like to. I’m Callum, nice to meet you Layla’
Bam! The butterflies began. The sparks flew immediately. We had EVERYTHING in common. Honestly, everything he said I was like fuck, yep, that is me…..to the point where I thought he might think I was begging it, like how could we have so many things in common, she must be making it up. It was refreshing. He was bright and witty and motivating, I liked talking to him so much. We couldn’t get enough of each other from the second that we started talking. He would message me on nights out telling me that his friends were getting pissed off but he couldn’t drag himself away from our chat. We had so much to say. We were both on it, hard. He made me feel like the most intelligent, funny, sexy, valuable woman in the world. He was not hiding his keenness for me and it was wholeheartedly reciprocated. He was special.
He was a writer too, not professionally, but he could have been. He had a difficult childhood where he witnessed a lot of violence and he sometimes struggled to deal with things and so he wrote as a form of release. His writing was good, really good. He told me that he never shared his writing with anyone and I felt really honoured that he would trust me with it. I always wanted to be a writer when I was a little girl, I won two writing competitions when I was 10 and I did some writing after leaving school for a music magazine. I used to interview DJs and MCs and review raves, it was my dream job but I didn’t earn any money from it. I could have probably made something of it all but I was with Ashley at the time and when he went to prison my whole life changed. I started volunteering to help children who’s Mum’s had gone to prison and from there I knew that I needed to help people, I had the power to make a difference, and so my career took a turn.
I don’t know why I let it go, I loved it and I was good at it. I’m good at my current job but I don’t love it, not anymore. I had always thought about writing a book but I never did it, my job is stressful and I’m always exhausted when I get home, so prior to starting this blog in February I always just switched off and zoned out to the TV once my son was in bed, but Callum inspired me to write again. He would write me the most amazing stories, romantic stories with a bit of erotica but he would only send me bits, he would cut off midway through an exciting sentence and he would tell me that I couldn’t get the rest unless I wrote him something in return. And so I did, and I loved it, and he loved it too, he gave me the confidence to start writing again, even if it was only for him. He told me that my writing was incredible and that I could make something of it. He encouraged me to start following my dreams. I didn’t start writing back then but he set the spark alight.
In one of the stories he sent me (about us two in a log cabin by a fire *vom*) he wrote ‘Your long blonde hair brushed my neck’, but I’m a brunette. Of course I immediately freaked and screenshotted it and underlined the word blonde and then sent it back to him along with several question marks. He quickly replied ‘arrggghh fucking predictive text’. I questioned why predictive text would change brunette to blonde and not to Bruh or Bruv considering that they all start with BRU. He told me not to be so stupid, he convinced me that he doesn’t even like blonde women, and then he changed the subject and I forgot about it.
We had our first date about a week and a half after we started talking. He had been straight up with me from the start, he was broke at the moment. He had been working a job that he hated, it paid well but he’d always had an ambition to be a close operative security guard and eventually run his own business looking after VIPs. He said he had jacked in his job to pursue his dream, he was nearly at the end of a security course and that as soon as it was finished he already had a top job lined up with his cousin’s firm, he would soon be earning over 40K, but right now he was working a few hours a week in Sports Direct and not bringing much home after he had given his daughter’s Mother £400 monthly in child maintenance.
He’d also had to leave the house he was renting, apparently it was a luxury apartment but the landlord wanted it back and refused to return his deposit and so because of his current circumstances he couldn’t afford another deposit so he was staying between his Brother’s house and his Baby Mother’s house. There was nothing going on between him and his ex he said. They had split up shortly after their daughter was born but they were good friends. He told me that he didn’t find her attractive at all anymore and that they were both free to see other people. He stayed there during the week because she lived close to the college where he was doing his course and he didn’t have a lot of money for travel so it made sense.
So because he had no money I didn’t mind the fact that our first date would just be a meet up rather than an event. I picked him up from work at 9.30 on a Tuesday night in late August, my son was on holiday with his Dad but I didn’t want to invite him round because I didn’t want to have sex with him. It was a very hot night and so we (I) bought some Prosecco and some food and took a picnic blanket to the park. When I picked him up he looked scruffy, really hot, but scruffy. He had changed out of his work clothes into gym clothes and he looked like he’d already had a workout. He was embarrassed because I looked fresh, I wasn’t dressed up, I had on a maxi dress and flip flops. I had told him that I was coming to him straight from the gym but I thought it would be obvious to him that I wouldn’t just finish my workout and then go on a first date, who would do that? I was clearly going to shower and change there. He had not taken the same level of care, I don’t even think he was wearing aftershave.
The car journey to our chosen picnic destination was quite long but it was so easy. The chemistry between us was intense but I also felt calm with him, like I’d known him for years. He opened up to me about some real deep stuff during the date. You know when they do that and it makes you open up to them too and then you both feel like you have this special thing between you, a level of trust that is created by sharing secrets. It felt safe and it felt lovely that he still liked me after the things that I had told him.
I fancied him so much, even though in real life he looked quite different to his pictures. He’s definitely sexy, but if you look at his face closely he’s really quite strange looking. Wonky teeth, a big nose, one eye smaller than the other, but to me his face had character and he was sexy as fuck. He was tall and well-built and he was an absolute alpha male. He’s got a few thousand followers on insta and he’s very popular with the ladies, I wondered if they knew what he looked like close up and whether he’d lose a few followers if they did.
We had the most perfect date, talking, laughing, kissing and getting deep. His kisses were perfect. He was perfect. I was really quite lost in him by that point already. I had been since the first message. Addicted. He made me feel alive. He was literally everything I had asked for in a man. Obviously his financial situation wasn’t great but that didn’t put me off. He was really clear and motivated about his goals, he was an ambitious and driven man and I just knew that he would have a successful future ahead of him. The staying with the Baby Mother thing didn’t put me off either, I could see from his Insta and FB that he was quite open about the fact that he was single and so I didn’t doubt his account of how it was. I had no reason to.
Even on the first date we were talking about a future together. The way we got on it just seemed completely normal to me to think that this guy was going to be around for the long term. Our chemistry was insane, what could possibly fuck this up? I had drunk a couple of glasses of prosecco and I was tipsy, we had a kiss and a fumble in the park and my fanny was fluttering like an epileptic butterfly. I wanted to do all manner of things with him. I let him touch me intimately, it was discreet because I was wearing a dress, I still felt a bit odd doing it though, but I thought fuck it, and rubbed his dick too. It was at that moment that I knew that this was the man I was going to marry. What a cock. Not huge, I don’t like huge, but big and thick and well proportioned. It was a good one. I got lost in our groping session, it was so fucking sexy, but I was rudely awoken from my zone by some ‘youts’ walking past smoking a spliff and blasting out trap music on their phone.
I fixed up and remembered that I was supposed to be a sophisticated 34 year old Mother, what if one of the school Mum’s walked past? What the fuck was I doing getting fingered in the park like a homeless person or a 15 year old? I needed to behave. Once the teenagers had passed Callum started to kiss me again, this time I was laying on my front leaning up on my elbows. He traced his hand down my back from my neck, and over my bum, he took his time circling his fingers over my body and I was getting goosebumps in places that I didn’t know existed. He started to go under my skirt again but I stopped him. I really did not want to become the next Dominic Celaire (poor guy, I actually remember his full name – he was that guy that got caught eating pussy on a stairwell on NYE and then his whole life got ruined by memes), I explained that to Callum but he told me to shhhh and carried on, I protested again and he flipped me over with force and lay above me.
I started to say something but he put his hand on my throat, gently but with enough pressure for me to feel it, and he said:
‘Do you understand that I am not letting your body go, not now, not ever, I own it now. You are going to give yourself to me, your body, your mind, your heart, and you are going to get mine. But you are going to have to learn to do as I say otherwise this is not going to work. OK?
I was stunned, I didn’t know how to react but his hand was still around my throat and so I nodded and he said ‘Good girl’ and then proceeded to put his head under my dress and eat my pussy like he had graduated with honours in a Vagina Studies degree. I was terrified, both because I didn’t want to become a pussy eating meme, but also because he had scared me, and I had scared myself because I liked it. I loved it in fact. It made me feel a rush, I was so turned on. It was weird because my head was telling me that this was very wrong, but it felt very right. I felt safe with him, I didn’t think that he would ever hurt my heart and I liked how sexual his dominance made me feel. I was going to go with it, he was going to be my Mr Grey, but an emotionally available broke version.
The park was near my house and I had consumed too much prosecco to drive him home which had been the original plan. We had been in the park for hours and the trains had stopped by the time we left. I felt really bad, he was worried about how he was going to get back and so I offered to order him an Uber as I felt kind of guilty that I had mucked up his lift home, but just as I opened up my Uber app my battery died. He had to come back to mine for a bit while I charged my phone. I told him that we were not going to have sex under any circumstances. I don’t care about sex on a first date, if it’s right it’s right, I know married couples who fucked on the first night, but I just wasn’t ready, I was tired and conscious of the fact that I was looking at only a couple of hours sleep before I had to get up for work. I wanted to maximise those hours and he was OK with that.
We got back to mine and I charged my phone and then discovered that the card I had registered on Uber had expired and I needed to add my new card, but for some reason it wouldn’t let me do it and so everything was taking a long time. He was kissing my neck and rubbing my back as I tried to fix my Uber glitch, then he suddenly pulled his dick out and he told me that he needed me to taste it. I told him that I didn’t want to, I just wanted to get on with ordering a cab, but he was stroking it, and guiding my hand to touch it. I was turned on but I didn’t want to give him a blow job. He stood up and walked to the side of the sofa, his dick was at face height and he was pushing it near to my lips. I was laughing and telling him to stop when he grabbed a hold of the back of my head and forced my mouth towards his dick. I was shocked, angry, raging in fact. I flung my head out of his grip and told him that what he had done was unacceptable.
He said to me:
‘I am in control of what we do now OK? If you really don’t like something I’m doing then say my full name. If I don’t hear you say my full name then I’m going to carry on, regardless of what else you are saying, OK?’
I nodded and he grabbed my head again. This time I willingly put his dick in my mouth but only for a few seconds before I quickly came to my senses and realised that he was leading me into something that I hadn’t signed up for. I’d never experienced this, I’ve played around with being submissive and dominant in bed (mainly submissive) but only on a very vanilla scale and never this early on in a relationship. I didn’t know whether to take it as a red flag, I am definitely not going to allow a man to control me in a relationship, but this…..I quite liked this. I stopped and he forced me down again:
He let me go straight away and kissed me. He asked if I was OK. I was. He sat next to me on the sofa with his grey tracksuit bottoms pulled down just past his balls. His dick looked so proud, he looked so self-assured and confident. He looked so desirable. I could feel myself getting caught up in him. I was looking at the soft skin and the lines on his neck and I just wanted to breathe him in. He held my gaze for ages while stroking my hair and face. It was intense and I loved it but I was scared too, it felt wrong but it felt right. But it was now 3am and I was beginning to flake. I really needed my bed and I didn’t want to get too carried away. I wanted this lust period to last for a bit longer. After about half an hour of trying, I finally admitted defeat with the Uber app and so I had to go to the cash point to get money out to pay for his cab home. The cash point is close to my house and so we jumped in the car and drove a few seconds down the road.
I got out to withdraw the money while the car was parked directly in front of the cash machine, I turned around to look at him while I was outside of the car and I was shocked as fuck to notice that he was wanking. He was staring directly into my face and slowly stroking his dick. I was creeped out. It didn’t look sexy, it looked sex offendery. I turned back to the machine and tried to process the image I had seen. I didn’t want to be put off him but this had the potential to do that. When I got back in the car he was still at it. I told him I didn’t like it and that he needed to stop because someone might see. He said he didn’t give a fuck if anyone saw him and he carried on as I drove. I looked straight ahead and told him again but he just told me that it’s my fault, that he desired me more than anyone he had ever met, and that I make him lose control. His wanking became more frantic and I didn’t want him cumming in my car where my son hangs out so I quickly said ‘Callum Harvey’ and he immediately put his dick away.
He came back to mine to call a cab and the vibe was a bit different. I just wanted him to go. It had all been a bit intense and I needed sleep and space to process all of the madness. It was nearly 4am when I noticed his phone flashing, it was a call and the caller’s name was Chanel. I asked him why someone called Chanel was calling him at this hour and he said that she was his cousin, he told me to ring her back and ask her if I wanted. I didn’t, and I also thought that it’s our first date so it’s OK if he’s still got links on his line, as long as they are given the message soon, and so I dropped the matter. I gave him £20 when the cab arrived and he held my face and told me that it had been the best first date of his entire life. He told me that he was mad excited about what was coming next because he knew we were going to be amazing for each other.
He messaged me when he got home thanking me profusely for the cab and telling me again how into me he was. I felt the same. I reflected on the events of the night, the behaviours, the lifestyle, the wanking, the way he made me feel, the way I wanted him sexually, the way he was introducing me to new feelings that I had never experienced, the danger, the fact that he scared me but yet made me feel safe, the roughness, the baby Mum, the sofa surfing, the ‘cousin’ calling at 4am, the way that he was offering me love, all the things we had in common, the way that he had inspired me to write; I looked at it all and for some unknown reason, I decided that I needed this man in my life. He was there to teach me something and I felt like it was worth giving it a chance, I had manifested him after all.
I had told my friends about Callum as soon as I got talking to him because I knew he was going to be a biggie in my life but after the date I found myself giving them edited highlights. I told them about him being flat broke but I didn’t tell him that I paid for everything and gave him £20 for the cab home. I knew what they would say, I knew what it looked like, but as far as I was concerned they would have been wrong and I didn’t want to have to convince them that he’s not a wasteman and so I left that stuff out. I only told my best friend Grace that he was basically living with his ex. I knew that my mates would all have a lot to say about it, Grace had a lot to say about it, but I knew him, I believed him and I didn’t see it as a red flag like she did.
I also told them that he was very dominant, a bit of a Mr Grey, but I didn’t tell them that he held my throat or forced me to suck his dick, or that he wanked like a sex offender in my car. Again, I was in it, I understood the context, it was horny and even though it was weird, it felt good. I knew my friends would be jumping up and down trying to tell me that he was clearly a violent and controlling wasteman fuckboy and that I should run like hell, but I knew that they were wrong.
They didn’t know him, they couldn’t see how much respect he showed me, they didn’t understand that we were soul mates, and they wouldn’t understand that he wasn’t forcing me into anything, that I was willingly going along with it all. They wouldn’t understand that I was already falling for him hard after one date, I knew that they would tell me to slow down and step back. I knew that all that they would be able to see were red flags and warning signs and so I gave them a slightly fictional version of events. I knew that nothing could go wrong and I didn’t want to hear their predictions. I was going to do this regardless of what anybody else said. I was in control of this……
To be continued……(because the blog would be way too long if I carried on until the end of this story, but the next one will come very soon, I promise!)