Frontwards

Saturday, November 5th, 2005

Looking back at this diary, I like to think of this as “day one”.

Don’t you just love those three seconds of ignorant harmony when you first wake up? Often I think that those are the best seconds of the day, but they slip through our fingers so easily.

Today, my moment of bliss was especially short-lived because I was all too aware of a pair of thick arms slung around my waist and a very prominent ache in my frontal lobes and a slight chill as a result of being stark bollock naked underneath my duvet.

Horrified, with no recollection of what actually happened to me last night, and squinting and gurning in a manner I imagine was not particularly attractive, I turned my head slowly backwards, probably somewhat like an owl, and was confronted with a rather unfamiliar face, with a lip ring, and what looked like smudged eyeliner, and scruffy, dark hair fanned across my white pillow.

Ohgodohgodohgod what have I done? There is a man in my bed. It is half past seven. His name is Frank Something, I have just remembered. He is extremely dashing and sexy and also nude with his arms around my own naked form and a very palpable erection pressed up against my coccyx. Ohgodohgodohgod. Daisy you are so fucking stupid. Opening the second bottle of wine was a mistake. What the fuck happened last night?!

There should be a short interval here, in which I flicked through previous pages of appalling handwriting that vaguely resemble my own, and gasped in silent horror at my behaviour last night. So so so unlike me. What the actual fuck.

As all of this came flooding back to me in shameful waves, I noticed a snuffly, grunty sound from behind me and quickly slid my diary back underneath my pillow. How did it even get there in the first place? Nothing makes sense today.

“Good morning,” came a low groan from behind me, as Frank unfurled himself from me and I wrapped the bedsheets tighter around myself, eyes wide with shock as I shuffled around to face him.

“Good morning?” I repeated back to him indignantly, my voice several octaves higher than usual. “Is that all you have to say? Good morning?” I was panicking, yes, but then again I had woken up very naked next to a stranger, with no recollection of any events leading up to it so I think I was probably allowed to panic.

Frank let out an easy laugh and rubbed his eyes. “I feel fucking terrible,” he announced.

“Yeah, well, good,” was all I could muster as I shook my head in despair. It’s not like I’m ashamed of Frank; far from it, as he is an extremely good-looking man and I am little more than average at best, but more I was ashamed of myself for waking up naked next to a man that I had known for little more than twelve hours. “We had sex,” I said, more of a statement than a question. It seemed like a wasted effort even asking. Seemed quite obvious to me.

Frank made a long “mmmmm” sound and his eyes fluttered open. "I guess so." Fuck me he is sexy, with his hair all messy and his eyes all bleary from sleep and his tattoos all on show and oh my god I just don’t care what happened last night because he is so fucking hot. “What time is it, Dais?” he muttered with a smile, in his sexy American morning voice, all croaky and raspy and sexy. Fuck you with your irresistible charms and your minty fresh breath, you son of a bitch. How dare you ask me the time, you selfish bastard, when you can plainly see that I am desperate to have sex with you again. You can fuck off with your big penis and your neck kisses, you motherfucker, and kiss me really hard on the lips.

Of course, this is not what I said. This is what I wanted to say, but instead what came out was “Seven thirty,” and then, for good measure, “you bastard.” I couldn’t physically have prevented myself from smiling even if I had wanted to, which I didn’t really because he was so damned delicious all naked and tattooed in my bed and I wanted it to last forever and ever so that I would never have to deal with the implications of this all.

Frank gave a small chuckle, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling my head down onto his bare chest. It almost felt like I was in a movie. Hell, maybe I will be, one day, if this ever gets published. I wonder who they’d get to play me. Maybe I’d play myself, because I’m not sure even the finest actress could perfect my awkward social graces and perpetual cluelessness.

I took a deep breath and blinked up at him, really wishing I didn’t have to ask my next question. “Did we use protection?”

He appeared pensive for a second, as if conjuring up the memory, and then nodded. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we did.”

“Pretty sure?” I raised an eyebrow. All of this is wrong wrong wrong but I could feel his heartbeat against my temple and I really liked it so I didn’t move.

“I was drunk, Daisy,” he sighed, kissing the top of my forehead lightly. “But I think we did.”

I heaved a sigh and wriggled away from him, pausing momentarily as I pondered whether I really wanted to wander across the room butt naked but I figured it didn’t really matter either way because we’d had sex anyway. He had seen me naked already and he obviously wasn’t so repulsed by it. Besides which, I’m not too self-conscious about my body. I know I have wobbly bits but I embrace them because there’s little else I can do. Except possibly eat less and exercise more, but that’s just crazy.

As I moved towards the bin, I could feel Frank’s gaze on my body. “Pervert,” I said, smiling to let him know I didn’t mind.

He laughed and flipped me off. Charming.

You can imagine my relief when I peered down into the rubbish bin to find a discarded condom hidden amongst the Kit-Kat wrappers and empty Pepsi cans (goes some way to explaining aforementioned wobbly bits) and I obviously didn’t disguise it very well, as Frank merely grinned and said “See. Told you.”

“Yeah yeah,” I dismissed, hopping back into the warmth and snuggling back up to him. “It’s cold out there,” I said, feeling like I possibly needed a reason to wrap myself around him. “You’re warm. Like a radiator or a cup of tea.”

He gave another laugh and pulled me closer into him. So close I could smell vanilla and cigarettes from his hair. So close that I couldn’t stop myself from looking up and kissing him softly on the lips. One of those gentle Saturday-morning kisses where you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet but it doesn’t really matter that much. I never used to understand how people in movies could face each other with morning breath but now I think I get it. Maybe.

Oh who am I kidding? To be honest with you, I didn’t have a clue what to think. Obviously I was extremely attracted to Frank, that much is quite clear, but what else did we have in common? He’s a musician, I’m an accountant. He’s charming and laid-back, I’m hostile and a nervous wreck. He’s sexy, I’m quite plain. We have almost no common interests, hobbies or opinions. There is nothing to suggest that our relationship should go any further. Except for this fluttery feeling I get in my stomach every time he speaks, or touches me, or smiles. And the calming effect he seems to have on me. The way that he can make me forget about everything and just enjoy the fact that I am with him. Maybe I worry too much. Maybe I will take his example and chill out a bit. Go with the flow, Daisy. Relax.

This is love, surely. Love is being with the person who makes you feel squishy and calm. When your whole personality changes just because of one person, that is surely love. When you can’t stop yourself from smiling or kissing his chest. When you giggle for the first time in 19 years. It is all love, and it is terrifying to be so vulnerable and naked underneath the sheets but it is the most exciting feeling in the world.

So we hadn’t known each other long. Who gives a shit? The way Frank began to trace kisses along my neck, and the way he made me moan, and the way he touched me all made me think that it didn’t matter because we were soulmates, if you believe in such a thing, and I never thought I did until now but anyway none of it matters because it’s love, and when you’re in love everything else is irrelevant.

Several minutes later I was clawing away at Frank’s back, sinking my teeth into his shoulder as he gave one last thrust and one last groan and then he was beside me and we were sweaty but it was okay because I was the happiest I had been for a long long long long time. We lay in silence for a while, catching our breath, neither one of us able to wipe the smile off our face. Eventually, Frank cuddled back up to me, pulling the duvet back over us and resting his hand across my less-than-washboard stomach. I thought maybe this would bother me, but it didn’t on account of the love. I knew that for whatever reason, Frank liked me and he thought I was sexy, so who gives a fuck if I have a wobbly belly?

Live life, laugh loud and order dessert. That is my motto. Or at least it is for today.

Dear lord, what is happening to me? I have known this man for less than a day and we have already had sex twice and it feels completely natural. I am sure he is no good for me.

We fell back to sleep after that. A blissful kind of sleep, in which I dreamt about lobsters. You may be aware that lobsters are one of the few creatures that mate for life. Lobsters and beavers. Maybe. Anyway, in my dream, Frank and I were a lobster couple with many lobster children, spending many a happy day under the water being red and holding claws or whatever it is lobsters like to do. Lobstery activities. It was very nice.

Unfortunately though, I was awoken from this dream by none other than Atticus the cat. Frank and I were in the midst of a crustacean adventure when Atticus chose to launch himself from the windowsill onto my stomach, and I awoke with an abrupt “oof” sound and a hungry cat staring at me.

“Hey Atty,” I mumbled, giving him a quick scratch behind the ear. I felt Frank stir behind me. “Go get Kate to feed you. Mummy’s sleeping.” Astoundingly, I think Atticus understood, as he quickly turned his back to me, walked across Frank’s form with a loud meow, and left the room. I have always felt that Atticus and I have an understanding; a bond, if you will, that runs far deeper than a normal human-animal relationship. I think Atticus is my soulmate. Except I already said that Frank was my soulmate. Hmmmm. I’ll have to think that one over.

Before I could close my eyes again, Frank had rolled me over like a ragdoll and kissed me roughly on the lips, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Or maybe it is. I know very little about normality.

“Mmmm,” I mumbled, as we parted. “Morning again.”

He gave me another peck on the lips. “Morning.”

By the time we stumbled out of bed and into the living room, it was noon and Kate had already left for work. Thank God. Kind soul that she is, though, she left a note on the fridge that read something like this:

Diz,
You bad girl! I want to hear all about this when I get home.
Kate x
P.S. If this behaviour is to continue, I’d appreciate it if you could be a little quieter next time.

Shit. I groaned and threw the note into the bin.

“What’s up?” Frank’s arms were suddenly around my waist and his chin was resting on my shoulders and I couldn’t help but grin as I took his hands.

“Nothing,” I said brightly, turning to face him, our fingers still entwined. “So what do you want to do today?”

He nibbled on his lip ring again. Yumyumyum. A vague memory from last night suddenly popped into my head, in which said lip ring was grazing my skin as- Well, never mind. Use your imagination. Either way, it made me blush a little so I buried my face into Frank’s shirt, inhaling him. If I smelt his scent all day for the rest of my life it would still never be enough.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, brushing some hairs away from my face. “Stay in and make love all day?”

Deal. No. NO.

“Shouldn’t I take you to London?” I replied, fingering the hem of his shirt. Every now and then my fingertips would brush against the skin on the small of his back and he would shiver slightly. It was kind of fun to see.

“You don’t have to take me,” he replied smoothly, his hands reaching around his back for mine, grabbing my fingers to prevent me from continuing to tickle him. He figured out my game. Damn.

“Well I think it’s probably best that I make sure you get the right train,” I grinned, hoping he knew that what I really meant was I’m not quite ready to say goodbye yet.

“If you want,” he shrugged, smirking a little. “But breakfast first?”

“Of course.”

After much searching, we found at the back of one of the cupboards some pancakes, and as I was warming them through in the microwave, Frank went to call his friends – bandmates, I should say – to let them know what was happening.

I couldn’t help but overhear, of course.

“Gerard?” he said, pacing the living room with the phone to his ear. “Oh, hey Mike. Where’s Gee?.. Oh, lovely.” He grimaced a little and I stifled a smile as I watched him. “No, I don’t want any details of his bowel movements, thanks...” There was another long pause as ‘Mike’ spoke. “Shut up. I’m in Nottingham.” Pause. “I met a girl. She offered me a place to stay the night.” Pause. “Shut your fucking face.” Frank sighed and mouthed ‘sorry’ in my direction. I laughed it off. “Mikey.” Pause. “Mikey, put Ray on the phone. Right now.” Pause. “NOW.”

The pause this time was longer, and several chuckling noises were audible from the handset. Frank just rolled his eyes and I began to place the pancakes onto plates, drizzling them with golden syrup.

“Hey, dude,” Frank began, obviously now conversing with ‘Ray’. I felt like I already knew these people. “No, it doesn’t matter.” Pause. “Jesus, man, you’re as bad as Mikey.” Eruption of laughter from the other end of the line. I took a bite of my pancake. It was good. “Shut the fuck up, man. Listen, I’ll definitely be there tonight, okay?” Pause. “Queen’s Hall, got it.” Pause. “Five-thirty sharp.” Pause. “Alright. Later, bro.” Finally, he hung up the phone, placed the handset back in its holster and made his way back over to me. I was already halfway through my pancake and for some reason Frank took this as a challenge to beat me to the finish. We both felt very sick by the time we caught our train to London.