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Just how many of you have been affected by a ‘Douchebag?’ They frequent my runways far too often and seem to take off with me at such a fast pace I miss the facts because they are sitting in first class throwing back vodka shots and clinking crystal champagne glasses and enjoying the ride. Round one goes to the Douche. Bam. May I point out these are not necessarily relationship factors, it may be any encounter upon which you clumsily fell over, he tries to help you up, also falls but ends up accidentally inside you for over an hour. Know the one? The one you should never admit to anyone except your closest of friends. Yes, you do.

I shall disguise mine into a short story. Reason being is because it has no ending at the moment and it may need to be continued. Also it’s just not exactly plausible, you know? Naughty me. Again. By story form I guess I shall now switch to third person, so I shall now be known as ‘she’ or ‘Bella’ depending on how dramatic and sarcastic I wish to make it. I’m not intentionally naughty, it’s like a mild addiction that could be overcome, it’s just do I want to overcome it…? Hmmm. Rhetorical question. Figure that out for yourself.

                                                                 ***

Summer 2012. July. That’s when they met. It was a casual get together, yet he had heard Bella would be at the party and wanted to see who this girl was that he had heard so much about. Stalker. On the other hand, Bella knew he would be there, but wasn’t thinking anything past the fact she had heard of him and his devilish antics with females. All judging was withheld. (The link that ties them shall remain anonymous for now.) 

  She saw him step out of the car and had to admit she found him attractive, there was no hiding the fact. Tall, tanned and built nicely. He looked over, “Hi Bella.” “Hi” she replied, walking straight past him towards the front entrance of the house. ‘Bit rude’ he thought to himself as he followed her in. 

  A couple of wines and beers later the inevitable began to surface. Subtle flirting, sneaky cigarettes together and an exchange of phone numbers. This was the night it all began.

                                                                 ***

The start of a story is the best you can imagine. For me, this is the part where I take-off, enjoying the moments of a newly found attraction, no idea what’s around the corner ready to shout ‘Boo’ and make me jump backwards. This is the exciting part. He’s fun, kind, caring etc etc. This doesn’t exactly change, but circumstances dictate the answers to that. The more you become involved with someone, the more you find out secrets. Like ‘After eights’ can be eaten at any time – not just after eight. Are you with me here? 

The situation is not ideal, but somehow it keeps on rolling baby. Roll with me and I’ll tell you just how exactly this unplanned encounter continued to blossom, wilt and somehow re-blossom into yet another “I fell over and so did he by accident” scenario. Except the longer it goes on the harder we graze our knees as we hit the floor. Ouch. *Winks* 

It’s saucy, naughty and damn right atrocious…just how I like it.

 

Copyright © 2013 The Bella Effect

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