He fearlessly Sherlock-sat (We've been told, with much scowling, he's NOT a baby and it's NOT babysitting.) and the street is still standing, London is not in flames, no one bury your parmesan!
John took me to a lovely little wine bar that served amazing food, beautiful ingredients. We shared some beautiful meats to start, then I had smoked eel and he had pig's cheeks, and he finished with a bitter chocolate pot, and I finished with a coffee, walnut and caramel tart.
I've come to realise that I've never minded people looking at me, because I'm a bloke having a romantic meal with another bloke. But with Bry it was always a massive 'thing' he'd always have some comment to make if he caught anyone looking - it was just miserable. He loved being the centre of attention, except he was all mouth and no trousers, and ...yeah, couldn't ever just relax.
Whereas with John, nothing matters outside us. We can happily sit and talk and I'm so...immersed in him, it just doesn't matter, I don't even notice people around us, and it's brilliant.
So, an Anon asked about my first ever kiss.
Well...I was...14, I think. 13 or 14, anyway. And the sun was shining. We were sitting on some grass, under a tree, overlooking the city, and there were insects making noises, and a soft breeze, and everyone else was sensibly having a siesta...and, well, we'd known each other for a while. Sort of...good friends, but in a slightly awkward way, if that makes sense? Partly because 'grown ups' were always saying how sweet we were together...
Anyway, she kissed me. And I'm fairly sure I either opened my mouth in shock or to protest.
And...then she held my hand. I didn't know what to say. Because some...some weird, small part of me, had wondered, well, if when a girl kissed me - or I kissed a girl - if I'd change from this odd little frog into a charming prince. And I didn't. I was still the odd little frog and no magic spark had jumped from her into me that suddenly made me stop thinking about boys' bums in tight footy shorts or nice muscly shoulders.
So I said I really liked her, but not like...that. And she looked sad, and I wanted to tell her the reason but...well, it just wouldn't have been a good idea. So then I wanted to change my mind, just so she wasn't sad. And I so, so nearly did. But that would have been a terrible idea too.
And the next 'real' kiss I had was at a party. I don't remember his name, but that didn't turn out to be such a great idea either... At least I knew, though, that I was meant to be a frog, because it was other frogs that did it for me, not princesses at all.
I'm slightly worried that only makes sense to me because I've had half a bottle of wine, a glass of dessert wine and a digestif...
Now going to thoroughly kiss Johnfrog. If I can distract him away from Murray, who is very half-heartedly demolishing an epic degu-assault-course.