Categotry Archives: Misadventures

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archive revisted winter warmer blues

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Categories: BLOG, Misadventures

Now as we all now summer is the ultimate in finding the WW. Yes my precious the Winter Warmer. The guy we don’t mind sharing the duvet with because we know that a) body warmth in the UK means cheaper fuel bills and b) chances are he will be gone as soon as the snow drops and daffodils start to blossom. The perfect solution to a seasonal need.

 

So this was the summer in which I surely couldn’t go wrong. World cup years means men from all over the world joined in holy drinking, analysis and flat screen TVs in pubs. If ever I was going to score it was going to be 2010.

 

So where to start? Mr Bromley, left over from last winter was an obvious choice and as if the universe agreed I bumped into him. We set a date then he ruined it by saying he had forgotten howto get to my flat. Yes to be fair the thought of yours truly travelling to Bromley didn’t appeal but what made him think he could pick up where he left off 6 months back without so much as a Nandos first? A hearty meal is an essential winter warmer’s responsibility!

 

Then there was my perfect on paper Mr Banker Winker. That’s not a typo. He winked at me for days online. He owns his own house, spoke 3 languages, worked out every day and declared himself ready for a temporary to permanent arrangement. I was almost sold. We then spoke on the phone and one of his first questions was “So……are you adventurous?” I started telling him about the time me and my friends broke into the men’s toilets in a church hall when I was in the Brownies. I don’t think these were the sorts of adventures he was referring to. He ended the call with a fantasy he had for me where I would get a massage from his hot Brazilian friend (his words not mine) as foreplay. Something tells me he and the Brazilian may have ended up neglected my needs for their own pleasures. Call me old fashioned precious but it’s best to wait until we’ve met before introducing other people into the mix. Then again maybe Winker is a typo.

 

Oh there were others, so many others. One I am sad to say didn’t make the cut as he vehemently hated Take That or any pop band since 1982 which is more than 35% of my iTunes library. Replacing boy bands for one man who doesn’t appreciate the happy of pop? NEXT!!

So as we fall out of Autumn into Winter I find myself stocking up for hibernation. Electric blanket, thermals, PJ jumpsuit – check! At this rate any man I meet this winter may have to battle his way through 3 layers of sleepwear. But like all badly wrapped pressies, it’s well worth tearing open the wrapping on Christmas morning.

Happy hunting!

 

©Chelsea Black

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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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