Over the next four days, before I moved out of the apartment, I had a number of flashbacks about my drunken night with my friends; mainly about the stranger carrying me up some concrete stairs. I told my nan the story later (obviously minus the alcohol intake), and she thought it was very romantic. If only she knew the truth! The day before I was due to move out of the apartment, I had walked home from work, like I did most nights, and got in the newly repaired lift. There, a very tall, handsome man was staring at me with huge dark brown eyes. It made me extremely uneasy; the guy was huge, not in a fat way but in a tall muscular way, looking like a cross between a terrorist and a gangster. He had a short, dark ponytail, dark olive skin and a big gold chain around his neck and one around his huge wrist that made him look like a member of the mafia. After a very uncomfortable minute, I finally gained the courage to look at him, he was smiling at me, and the flashbacks started again.
I truly believe fate was on my side that day. If I had left work earlier or later, or if I had stopped at the shop that day, I would never have seen this man again. And that would have been a real shame.
As I later learned, the man actually built and owned the building in which Guy and I had been living. After our chance meeting in the lift, he invited me in to his apartment so I could get a fire door key so the incident wouldn’t happen again. At first, I was absolutely terrified. The man looked very dangerous, but something inside my newly single head told me to throw caution to the wind, as I could now officially do what the hell I wanted! I guess it was kind of a statement, a kind of ‘up yours’ to Guy, a ‘you can’t control me anymore. I can do whatever the hell I want.’ I could even enter a complete stranger’s apartment, where I might or might not be raped, murdered and chopped up into a thousand pieces, never to be seen again, but that was now my choice.
The stranger lived on the ground floor, and the apartment was absolutely amazing. Everything was white and so clean and tidy, there was nothing on the kitchen side, not even a kettle. Everything seemed to be put away in its rightful place and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of guilt at the state of my own apartment upstairs, and I hoped the stranger hadn’t seen it when he had carried me home. Although absolutely spotless however, I did notice how nothing was very homely, even the sofa looked uncomfortable, although I’m sure it was very expensive.
As we walked into the kitchen, he very coldly said he didn’t want me disturbing other guests, so I needed to be more careful next time, but I could tell from his face that he had a soft spot for me. However, as soon as I entered the apartment, I was so embarrassed I completely forgot my newfound single woman’s confidence I’d had literally seconds before. Instead, I didn’t know what to say or where to look, and I actually forgot that I was moving out the next day, so what did I want with a fire door key!
He actually commented that ‘For someone who works in a hospital (I was still wearing my hospital ID), you were dangerously drunk, you know. Anything could have happened to you.’
Gee, thanks ‘Dad,’ for your insight. I know that! After a five-minute conversation, where I apologised over and over and over again like some sort of little school girl for being so drunk, he handed me a shiny new fire door key. I suddenly remembered that I was moving out the next day and I was so embarrassed that I had forgotten such a huge detail that I handed it back to him without even an explanation. He thought I was absolutely insane, I’m sure. After all, why else would I have followed him into his apartment? He didn’t know about the new crazy single girl who could get murdered if she damn well wanted to!
After an awkward silence, he said something that made me laugh (which he now tends to do a lot). I can’t recall what exactly he said, but I touched his arm. Now I hadn’t sat down with a man and ‘flirted’ in five years, and I had no idea why I touched him. He definitely was not my type. He did not look the stable type at all, but when I touched his arm, I definitely felt something. I’m not sure what it was (and I’m sure he felt nothing at all), but whatever it was, it was new and extremely exciting. I shyly smiled to myself for the first time in a long time, as I thought of my newfound freedom and, of course, of the fact that I hadn’t been murdered just yet.
As I quite often do when talking to men, I soon began to freak out and look for an escape route, but I guess it couldn’t have gone that badly as he gave me his number. That night, I texted him, apologising for the thousandth time for being so drunk and making a nuisance of myself, and also to make sure that he had my number. The next day, I moved out of the apartment and in with Elly. One hour after I had moved out, my phone rang. My heart nearly stopped and I prayed it was Guy begging me to come back. But it was Ben (the handsome stranger), checking that I was ok and asking if I needed any help. A lovely gesture, I thought to myself. That was one of the last times my phone rang and I hoped it was Guy.
Despite my new glimmer of hope, that first night in my new home was horrible. Elly went away for the weekend, and so I was alone, again. The only reasons I stayed in was because I had nowhere to go, no one to go and see, and because I wanted to settle Coco in. I had, of course, taken her with me when I left—one, because I wouldn’t trust Guy with her and two, because I knew I couldn’t live without her. However, she was not adjusting well, and she meant the whole world to me, so it broke my heart. In my desperation, I relapsed and phoned Guy a number of times that night but he didn’t pick up. It broke my heart all over again to know that he really didn’t give a shit. He actually texted me later that night, asking me to stop phoning him because he was out at dinner and I was pestering him. No doubt with his friends and / or family. Bastard.
The next day was Saturday, so I reluctantly left Coco and went out to the gym. After wasting a lot of time trying to stay busy, I finally sat down in hysterical tears by 4pm. Of course, I started drinking. Then, I decided it would be a good idea to make up some excuse and go up to the apartment building so I could hopefully bump into Guy and he could see the new me who was ‘happy and content’ without him. I really don’t know why people do this when they are heartbroken, but it seems to be the norm and the thought came so naturally to me. So, I texted Ben, asking if he fancied a drink while I was there. Now I had never, ever asked a man out in my life, but I needed a distraction or I was going to go crazy.
He responded with, ‘I’m just on my boat. I’ll be back in three hours.’ I smiled.
He then text me and asked ‘Where are you? I’ll come and pick you up’, but not wanting to sound like a looser who had no friends to go out with on a Saturday night, and also not wanting him to know where I lived, I opted for ‘No it’s ok I’ll get a taxi.’
By 10pm, I was a little drunk, and I knocked on his door for the second time in a week. When he answered, he looked extremely attractive, wearing dark denim jeans and a light grey t-shirt that showed off the muscles in his arms. With his attractiveness and confidence, combined with my drunken state and intermittent newly found single girl confidence, I all of a sudden forgot about bumping into Guy.
For some reason, Ben and I got on so very well. I really had no idea why, as we were very different people from such different worlds. I listened in complete awe as he told stories of police, biker gangs, money, prostitutes and drugs. Coming from a very small town in the UK, and leading a relatively sheltered life, I had never been exposed to that world before. At first I was slightly scared, but the more I drank the more I relaxed and listened in absolute awe. I had never really been much of a ‘bad boy’ girl, preferring my men to be safe and stable, but after that night, I could totally see what the attraction was. Although Ben would probably be considered somewhat dangerous by society, I found him extremely charming. Looking back, I think that was the moment that made me think, Yeah, ‘nice men’ like Guy have a nasty side, but ‘nasty’ men have a very nice side. This newfound knowledge stills lives with me today, and I think I know which surprise I prefer.
After a few drinks, Ben kissed me. I think he could see I was a little out of my depth with his stories of drugs, alcohol and beautiful women. I think he could see a shyness and insecurity in me that he didn’t see in his world very often. As he started telling me yet another story that involved a beautiful looking woman, I insecurely, and unintentionally, looked at the ground. As I composed myself and looked back up at him he kissed me. The kiss was an absolute shock to me, although to be honest I’m not really sure why, I was drunk, at his apartment and most importantly I had contacted him that night. Looking back, it was what he was expecting to happen, but I hadn’t kissed anyone apart from Guy for five years. I innocently went up to his apartment that night, casually wearing jeans and a t-shirt, to have a drink. I never ever expected it to lead to anything at all.
After a few hours of drinking, chatting and flirting, we were joined by another very good looking dark skinned man, who walked freely into the apartment, obviously having a key, and announced himself as Sammy. Sammy was extremely well dressed and he had a Gucci man bag across his shoulder that I couldn’t help but notice, complete with matching Gucci patterned shoes, which made me wrongly assume he was gay.
At first I was a little taken aback, as it was late by that point and I remember thinking it was strange Ben never once mentioned that someone else lived there. However, I soon relaxed again when Sammy was just as charming as Ben, pouring me more drinks and telling me about his night at work chauffeuring Sydney’s rich and famous around. That night, I threw caution to the wind once more, and very unlike me, I ended up spending the night. Ben and I didn’t have sex, mainly because I was too drunk, but I definitely did things that would be considered cheating outside of a relationship.
The next day, I woke up alone in the spare room and left while everyone was still asleep so I could go home and check on Coco. Although I hoped that Ben would call, mainly because I wanted a distraction, I didn’t expect it at all. He didn’t seem like the kind of man that would call a girl the next day. Nevertheless, I was very wrong.
He texted me about 11am that morning, asking me if I wanted to come over for a swim as it was a nice sunny warm day. Normally, and probably like most woman, I wouldn’t have even contemplated the thought of getting into a bikini in front of strangers, but I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a month by that point, so I was feeling ok-ish about my body. Plus, I knew if I didn’t go, I’d live to regret it. It wasn’t every day you got asked to go for a swim with a good looking man whom I could only describe as ‘loaded.’
I knew from the previous night he didn’t have a swimming pool in his apartment, so I was intrigued. He picked me up about lunch time, with his cousin, Jack. As I went to get in the car, a blacked out four-wheel drive Mercedes, Jack, who was a little shorter and less bulky than Ben but just as good looking, jumped out and opened the door for me saying it was lovely to meet me, and I was just as pretty as Ben had told him I was. My heart melted just a little bit, and not for the last time, I felt a little bit like a celebrity.
After Ben insisted that I eat something (and bought me lunch), we headed to a very expensive, very luxurious four-bedroom, three-level apartment in Sydney’s Eastern suburbs. The house was amazing, and not for the first (or last) time, I was blown away. The place honestly looked like a show home. All three of us spent the afternoon swimming, drinking and chatting in the pool. Although I barely knew these men, for the first time in forever I truly felt like I belonged in Sydney. As Jack went to pick up some more friends, Ben and I had sex in the swimming pool. After all, they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else! This probably wasn’t the best way to go about things, but at the time it was the best, and only, plan I had, and it definitely fitted my new crazy single girl attitude. Plus, I hadn’t been murdered yet and so assumed I was doing just fine living on the edge!
When Jack came back, it was with a hot blond girl. As soon as he saw her, Ben tensed up. He immediately asked me not to touch him or come near him.
Although we had just had sex, I wasn’t too bothered. I had no feelings for him whatsoever, so how could I get upset? As the girl jumped in the pool, I watched for hours as she swam around in circles trying to catch Ben. This was my first glimpse into how women just threw themselves at him.
I laughed a lot that day, and I think he was both relieved and surprised that I didn’t start screaming jealous blue murder. I found out later she was the girl he was seeing before he met me. Probably a bit insensitive of him to invite us both over at the same time, but at least I got to show him my laid back ‘cool girl’ side. Of course, men think these laid back ‘cool girl’ types of women really exist and finding one is like finding a rare jewel. But, in reality, that is what a girl does when she first meets a man, doesn’t really care about him and / or is trying to impress him. The persona, of course, never lasts. I guess, at the end of day, I really didn’t care what Ben was or wasn’t up to. I was getting what I wanted and that was a distraction.‘A real woman avoids drama, she knows her time is precious and she’s not wasting it on unimportant things.’ — Unknown.