Categotry Archives: Misadventures

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My Beach Bond Moment in Barbados

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Categories: DATING, Misadventures, Travel, Tags: ,

So for my birthday (I have three but that’s a whole other blog) I decided that I needed some beach bikini and promptly took myself off to Barbados. My friends told me to take condoms and make up etc in case this was my ‘Stella Got Her Groove Back’ moment but I’d already had that and to be honest I didn’t really have Bond on beach fantasy. I just wanted to work on my vitamin d and catch up on some much needed sleep

I arrived in the afternoon and it felt like I was being kissed and hugged by the sun and heat. As allergic as I am to the cold I’m quite literally addicted to the heat. It completes me. I was promptly whisked off to the resort and it was lovely. I made the mistake of partaking in their welcome rum punch and fell asleep on my bal

cony over looking the sea. This was heaven.

The next day I dug out my honeymoon

Bond moment Barbados

bikini and, it fit! I got up early (I’m an eight German so have an inbuilt need to grab a lounger early. I’d been spying on the beach since 6am) and sauntered down to my lounger. Bar staff came to take orders so you never ha

d to go in. The wifi even worked as I was so close to the hotel.

A few hour later and I saw someone bobbing along the sea. Ignoring him I went back to a facebook argument about one of the KarKrash family I think. Then I saw the bob emerge from the sea.

Now, in terms of female fantasies there have only been two sea scenes to reference. The first is Daniel Craig in every sing Bond movie I think. The second is Tom Cruise in some movie where their plane crashed and he emerged and you realised that Tom was now not the hot thing of yesteryear. He was giving serious Daddy hotness not sexy hotness.

Well, this was worse. Firstly he had moobs. His bra size would definitely be bigger than mine and I’m a small D cup. Secondly he looked like he’d eaten Nemo. And why was he walking towards me like we knew each other? Oh fuck! A beach fuckboi opportunist. Was Idris or Omari Hardwick busy?

He did indeed come over and start chatting me up. Why? I blame the honeymoon bikini and the lack of any other black women on the beach. Turns out he was a grandfather of 5, in his 50s, semi retired and way too chatty. I hadn’t even had my second smoothie of the day.

I tried to be reserved and unengaging but, he was nigistent in his approach and insisted on exchanging details. I gave him my messenger. He eventually left and I promptly slagged him off on facebook before remembering that my profile is public. Did he see it? I felt bad but then thought, hold on, this is my holiday. How dare he think it’s ok to impose his mooby self on it. I thought I had escaped that sort of nonsense when I got on the Virgin flight at Gatwick. Quick shout out to Virgin  on the gluten f

ree meal by the way. Not so much on the way back but you killed it on the way out.

Anyway he insisted on taking me out on my birthday. I guess he hadn’t read the post. We walked around the west side of the island and he showed me his primary school and then said we should go to his cousin’s house. Er, does this fool think I’ve never seen an episode of Oprah? You never ever let them take you to a second location. Yes, judging from his flip flopped feet and belly I could outrun him but, CSI Miami was about to start and I had to make a decision. I chose Miami.

Needless to say I probably wasn’t in any danger at all but, I didn’t want to become some unknown tourist who disappeared in the middle of the night who wrote ‘moobs’ in the sand as a clue to the police. Nah, this was no Bond moment.

© Chelsea Black 2017 #BikiniBirthday #BimBreak

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The Wasteman Resurrection

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Categories: Baking, Misadventures

My Wasteman Carrot Cake Cupcakes

So this is a Baking Diairies and a Wasteman woes of old. When an ex crosses your present path. To recap: It’s 8pm on the last day of the long weekend and I’ve promised Slave Owner cakes. He wants healthy to go with his never decreasing waistline so I’ve done banana bread and carrot cake except, yesterday I had a cooked brekkie and ate some eggs so I’m eggless!

I look online and Waitrose Kings Road is supposed to be open but, bank holiday. If I go to Waitrose I don’t have to faff on the snack front so I can be in and out in like,  5 minutes. A record for me. I sling on my winter coat which never actually gets put away, my sparkly uggs and pop my headphones in as I march up the Kings Road. It’s more of a dance, waddle , march as I’m listening to the new MATM album and fantasisting about scoring a winning goal. Whole other story for another time.

As I pass Bluebird I hear someone call my name like I owe them money so, I keep walking. I also can’t see very well at night so although I can make out a black guy on the other side I have no idea who it is.

Turns out it’s this dude I went on one date with years ago who then got arsey when I didn’t put out and went on about all the money he had spent on a Marco Pierre White meal? This was way before I knew who Marco Pierre White was so, totally wasted on my Nandos level self. Besides the food was heavy and pretentious and left me uncomfortable, as did he. He also lied unnecessarily

He lied about being a banker (he worked in finance) and living in the City (more Bethnal Green) and spoke with a pretentious British accent which belied his 30 odd years in a naija village. Any hoo we weren’t friends. Why was he calling me so hard? I had heavy thoughts on my head like, what time did Waitrose close? Did the winning goal celebration constitute a shirt off moment? How had I left my house without earrings on?

Turns out he needed to see me at that particular moment because he had a new girlfriend and wanted to rub it in. Honestly? She’s cute. He’s punching above his weight. But I didn’t need the smug look of glee as he told me that the reason he hadn’t been around was because she was taking up all his time now. Dude, I haven’t seen you in over a year! Nobody is blowing up your phone wondering where the fuck you are! See earlier heavy subjects weighing my head.

He tells me how he’s trying to get her to move to Shoreditch. I look confused and ask him if he’s moved from his flat in Bethnal Green? He mumbles something about needing to be in a creative space. I mumble in y head about needing to create more wasteman lies. We both smile snark at each other. Why are we doing this again? Oh yes, so he can gloat.

I told them I was in the middle of a baking emergency and needed to get to Waitrose. Cutey pipes in with, ‘Oh, is it open?’ Ok so she’s not that cute. They’re a match . I run off and yes, Waitrose closed at 7pm.

How is this life? And the carrot cake cupcakes don’t like right. Too gloopy, too dark, too sinsister with the cinnamon. Kind of like him. Oh well, I’ll always have banana bread.

© Chelsea Black 2017

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The public train ride

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Categories: DATING, Misadventures, Sex

Sex train

When the sex train pulls in. Recently we’ve been celebrating 20 years since university which has meant a flurry of photos of a slimmer, more confident me. I know right? All that teenage angst and I never had to worry about what I ate or wore. EVERYTHING fit. But I digress

The Boyfriend

In one of these photos I spotted an ex. I thought 15 weeks of therapy and a marriage had exorcised all of my demons but apparently I can still hold a grudge? Hey, I’m a Taurus. Once you really piss me off then you may as well just move countries. Which he did. He moved to Scandinavia.

He was a cute guy and initially we were friends as we were both into sport. He was younger than me but somehow we ended up dating each other. I don’t know how relationships at university ever started but I don’t recall an official ask out. Just one day our names were joined.

Things were fine until we had sex. 9 minutes after we started he was done. Was I being punk’d? Youthful inexperience I guess.  Initially he was apologetic but then he got all cocky and he thought he’d done something special by being in my bed? Like he’d blessed my life with that 9 minutes? Oh dear god! But I was young and didn’t know how to tell him he was shit without damaging his rather large but fragile ego. His cock wasn’t so large sadly. But again, I digress. I should have just hurt his ego.

The train

A few weeks later there was a group picnic up a mountain. You had to take a train up this mountain. Everyone broke off into groups and pairs. We wandered off, started making out and he suggested we go hide out on the waiting, empty train. I’d not gotten much spontaneity out of mr mediocre and missionary so this was surprising. He shocked me by suggesting the cowgirl. Wow. A change is a coming!

What I didn’t know is that he’d told ALL his hall of residence mates and we had a group of spectators who gleefully brought friends. So dude couldn’t last more than 9 minutes but he thought literally exposing me to the elements was a good idea? Before we got back down the mountain later that day the story had spread like wildfire and I was labelled a slut. Having sex with my boyfriend on a train was a sinful act apparently.

And thus began a campaign of idiots thinking it was ok to approach me on campus and ask for sex. Guys are stupid when presented with a sexually liberal woman at the best of times but this? This became group bullying. Sadly the women on campus were worse because apparently some women deem themselves to be the moral compass for all other women. It’s not nice to be pariahed for any action but especially one that wasn’t of your making. But I don’t know any of those people now. They don’t influence my life. You learn to get on with your life and move to the chugging motion of your own train I guess.

The result

Needless to say when some women told me what had happened we broke up.

9 minutes contacted me on Facebook a few years ago and I’m not going to pretend I was pleasant. I have come to understand that I don’t have to forgive or be pleasant to everyone from my past. He’s a father with daughters apparently. I think I’m meant to care?

Yeah, it’s been 20 years but I’m nowhere near forgiving him and his nonsense. Sue me. And not all #tbt photos from the past evoke pleasant memories. But sometimes, when I’m on a train I think of that time and smile. I think, fuck, he lasted a whole minute longer!

© Chelsea Black 2017

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