o henry

and no, i don't mean the great american aesop.

or my perfect hoover:







long story short, hot scot randomly showed last night. what was a book launch became a pub crowd, a late night crew, and him staying at my flat (no, i didn't sleep with him).

i completely cold shouldered him early on and true to form, he spent all night showering me with compliments and private conversation.

granted, the man makes love to whole rooms of people in one go - but it's still nice to hear how amazing you are, even from a cad. i continued to be sarcastic without malice and my own brand of geeky-sexy which certainly amused. made for a fabulous evening.

i've written this about 4 times now - denying myself gushing girly bullshit i only half mean but want to wallow in.

i think it can be summed up in two exchanges:

1 - i let him stay over. on the sofa in my room, not the one in the living room. he watched me get undressed. i didn't mind.

2 - he turned to me at the bar and said "you are so fun to be with". i replied "one is not fun alone".

a vague reference only the most pathetic austenite will catch - an exchange mimicking fanny and henry crawford at the mansfield ball in the film, but dont get me started on that.

but still, i find my dearest rake a most apt comparison. a cad, a player, a violent flirt, but when all is said and done, there is still a softness that will never induce to matrimony but denies any definitive rejection. we may yet be great dancing partners and card players, so long as neither fancies themselves in love.