.Mitch: The Conversation.

I was furious. Not so much with Mitch. Granted, he had soaked me even more, but with the volume of water pouring from the heavens it was bound to happen sooner or later. No, I was furious with myself. I mean, think about it. This was a rare chance to rekindle an attraction with the very boy that started off this whole obsession, and there I was looking awful without so much as an umbrella to hold off the weather. My hair was hanging flat and in individual strands, weighed down by the rain dripping off of it like a leaking tap. My makeup, so lovingly applied only hours earlier, was a black river down my cheeks. Plus now, thanks to Mitch, I had muddy puddle water sprayed across my grey hoodie and jeans. Brilliant.

     I forced a smile to plaster itself across my sodden cheeks and offered a feeble nod to his question. Grinning back, Mitch proffered his mobile phone to me out of the open window.

     "Let me take you for a drink? As an apology for meeting like this..." he said, looking me up and down. "Stick your number in there and I'll give you a call."

     Dazed, I took his phone and numbly entered my digits into it, trying to ignore the familiar flutter of my heart as I did so.

Soaking in hot bath when I eventually reached home, it dawned on me what had just happened. Nine years had passed without so much as a Christmas card from Mitch and his family and he had just turned up out of the blue. This, I concluded, had to be due to fate. I am a firm believer in the old cliche that everything happens for a reason and fate has a huge part to play in all of our lives. I refuse to accept that things happen coincidentally or should be ignored as, to me, every opportunity should get a fair trial before being tossed aside or replaced by another. The circumstances in which I had been reunited with the first boy I ever fancied had to mean something. After all, I hadn't been thinking about him and I certainly wasn't looking my best. It was Mitch who had recognised me and decided to stop his car, despite having just drenched me! Somehow, all of this had happened in a blur without me really realising what was going on and, for once, with no effort on my part.

     I was fully submerged under the bubbles, letting the water massage the weather out of my system when my phone, balanced on the edge of the bathtub, began to vibrate. Unknown number. Mitch? Drying off my hands, I took the call.

     "Hello?"

     "So you did give me the right number! It's Mitch."

     Despite the heat of the water, his voice and his name sent a shiver across my body.

     "I thought it might be."

     "You dried off yet?"

     "I'm warming up as we speak."

     I heard an intake of breath at the other end of the phone. A few seconds of silence, then...

     "So, what about that drink? You didn't agree just to get rid of me did you? Well, actually, it's the right number so you must have wanted to a bit. Unless... Shit. I'm babbling. Sorry, let me start that again."

    I kept quiet and let him gather his thoughts. There was no way that I was going to save him the trouble and make the arrangements myself. I wanted him to ask me out.

     "Right. Are you free tonight? There's a new bar opened in town. I can pick you up in a couple of hours, say 8? Do you still live at the same house?"

     This time my smile was not forced. " Sounds perfect," I replied. "See you at 8."

     Ending the call, I pulled myself out of the bubbles and the bathtub, and wrapped a warm towel from the radiator around my body. I had a date.

    

    

.Mitch: The Introduction.

My infatuation with boys began at an early age. My first ever kiss was at the age of ten years old. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't something that I intended to happen. In fact, it was quite a shock!

     I was playing Hide and Seek at the house of one of my mum's friends. Mitch, my mum's friend's son (there's a mouthful!) found me hidden underneath his bunkbeds, and instead of going to find our other friends, he stayed with me. It made me feel so special! I decided right then that I wanted this boy's attention  to be all mine and slipped my hand into his. He responded by planting a kiss on my lips.

     It's weird because, to me, kissing someone for the first time is one of the most intimate things to take place between a couple. It is at that moment that you feel that spark, the chemistry that will either ignite or douse a relationship. While sex is wild and passionate, a first kiss is soft and tentative. I mean, think about it. You can get sex, albeit at a price, from a prostitute, but most whores refuse to kiss their clients for any amount of money. For me, this adds proof to my own theory, and means I am far more nervous kissing someone for the first time than I am when we eventually end up having sex. Strange, huh?

     Anyway, back to Mitch...

     Through time, our families drifted apart. I met new boys. I had more first kisses. And, if I'm honest, I completely forgot about me and Mitch and our moment beneath the bunk beds. That was until a few days ago. Picture the scene. It was raining. I was waiting for a bus, at a bus stop with no bus shelter and I was drenched. It couldn't get any worse right? Wrong. A car sped past me, spraying a tsunami's worth of water over my head and dripping down my body.

     Bastard.

     Then the car stopped. The passenger window opened, the driver leaned over, and an apologetic head peered out and looked at my bedraggled self.

     "I'm so so sor...Oh my god, is that you?"

     After nine years, there was Mitch.

    

    

.Love.

I am in love. Not with a person. Not yet. I am in love with the idea of being in love. I can't help it, it's like an addiction. Every time I see a guy, I can't help wondering if they are The One. Maybe I should go over and start a conversation? Maybe this could be my one and only chance of finding my soulmate and I am letting it wander away without a second glance? It happens everywhere I go, this niggling feeling that it is my duty to continue the search. It could be anywhere: a supermarket, on a bus, in a club, while I'm taking out the rubbish; my mind goes into overdrive and I just have to start up a conversation and see if there is a spark. On average around fifty percent of the time, guys I approach either think I'm mental or are so mind numbingly boring that, even if they are The One, I can't bear to waste another breath on them. Problem is, with the other fifty or so percent, though I don't feel an initial spark, I'm not instantly turned off by them either, and this is where my problems begin...

    See, my three favourite films of all time (read my profile) each depict couples that weren't gripped by a fairytale love at first sight or even an immediate attraction. They are people separated by wealth and stature, stereotypes, or even just opposing attitudes and beliefs. Yet, something always draws them together. They meet by chance, time and time again, while life provides situations in which they are thrown together. It is here, in these circumstances that a connection emerges and then true love is formed.

    So generally, around one in every two guys gets at least a first chance, if they are willing of course. Fortunately for me, I am not at all bad looking, so most lap up the offer and a first date is born. Unfortunately, most official first dates do not go quite as swimmingly as the movies suggest.