I’m not sure we’ve had an #OopsFiles tale like this yet. Utterly hilarious and dare I say it a bit ‘Oh no she di’nt?!’ (sorry Michelle but you know what I mean!), it also has an absolutely cracking warm tingly aaaaaah factor to it. Can I also say the mastermind behind The Secret Life of the Baby has also made me realise that my erm ‘game’ [cough] wasn’t as bad as I thought it was back in the day. I may not have been as adept at landing the fellas like Samantha in Sex and the City but I don’t recall falling into any bushes either. Just sayin’.
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The year was 2001. I was young, free and single – and looking to change the latter situation. And I knew who with. I had my eye on a tall, suited, dark haired fella who had caught my eye during my lunchtime wanderings around the city. Of course, I hadn’t approached him; instead I lived in hope of attracting his attention by staring at him from afar. Needless to say, my strategy, so far, had proven ineffective.
Fast forward a few weeks and I was out and about on a school night. And fair to say feeling rather ‘tired and emotional.’ Even though it wasn’t yet 7pm. Several bottles of Smirnoff Ice and numerous glasses of fizz will do that for you (the words ‘measured’ and ‘moderation’ could not be used to describe me, back in the day). And then, into my foggy vision walked a familiar face and after much squinting and peering (vanity meaning I’d left my much-needed specs at home) I realised it was the object of my admiration. Well. Here presented an opportunity.
A couple of glasses later (‘for courage’) I was feeling more confident. For ‘confident’ read ‘hammered’. In a great display of maturity, I sent my friend over to said chap to tell him that I liked him. Yep, alcohol had sent me back to the school playground. Fortunately, my friend managed to inveigle our way across to the table where the chap was sitting with his friends. Where, after a matter of seconds and in a bold/stupid move, I decided to not sit on the seat offered to me but his lap. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, aghast, to which I replied ‘Fnnnnrrrggggghhhhh.’ Still, I managed to recover (barely) enough from this epic faux pas and the evening continued until we decided to move on to another venue.
Stepping outside though, the cold hit me like an Andy Murray serve. Whoa. And the alcohol went straight to my legs. I managed to stumble along at the back of the group for a while until I met my match – a bush. I lost control of my limbs once and for all and fell completely into the prickly embrace of the foliage. If you’ve never fallen into a bush whilst drunk you may not know that it is surprisingly difficult to find your way out of all the greenery. I battled on valiantly for some time before the object of my affection came back to rescue me. ‘I wondered where you’d got to,’ he asked, bemused, shocked and confused.
It will come as no surprise to learn that our romance didn’t work out. Mainly, I think, because he thought I was insane.
That should have been the end of it. But it wasn’t.
Nine years later, and now living three hundred miles away, I was back in my home city for my birthday night out with my BFF. It was suitably classy, and as we walked into a pub/club renowned for being terrible, I spotted a familiar face. And he spotted me. ‘I know you, Michelle,’ he said. ‘And I know you,’ I replied as the chap from my past walked back into my life.
Within six months, I’d packed up and moved back home to a new job and to him. The following year we moved into our first home together. And then, a couple of years later, we got married before our beautiful daughter arrived. Fair to say I am significantly more moderate when it comes to vino these days.
The moral of the story is, I guess, that you can make an absolute fool of yourself – and still get the happy ending you want.
Now, the only worry I have is what on earth will I say when our girl asks ‘Mummy, how did you and Daddy meet?’
The hilarious blog The Secret Life of the Baby is written by Baby Anon, a baby who shares her hilarious observations about the strange household she’s been born into and her thoughts on Mother and Father’s questionable attempts at parenting. It’s possible Baby Anon gets some help with the writing of said blog from mum Michelle who is a rather busy lady running another website, managing Baby Anon’s ambitions to be an author with the release of her first ever ebook AND managing Baby Anon’s Twitter profile.
*This post contains an affiliate link which basically means if you click and then buy the associated product, I earn a few pennies in commission (at no extra cost to you) to put towards my next much needed coffee or Mummy’s juice (ahem).*
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