Beware the man that calls you Tinkerbell

Upon a recent venture to Southampton for a friends birthday, I was pleased to see she had some handsome friends. The wine and punch was flowing as I circulated through the party, a few of us had come down from London, but being the chatty girl I am I got talking to a rather dashing fellow that I didn't know. He was tall and good looking and ever so funny and we clicked. As the day rolled on and everyone got more relaxed we kept positioning ourselves next to each other whenever we could. 

As the sun set, the barbeque was over and we all decided to hit a club, so the menfolk disappeared to their homes to get changed as we girls got dolled up ready for a night of fun and debauchery. We all trolled down to the club and me and my project for the evening carried on talking. When we got to the club we stuck with everyone for a bit and then made an excuse to hang out alone - the smoking ban's not always a bad thing. So there we sat outside chatting away and chain smoking. I remember being taken aback with how emotional this guy was, but didn't think anything of it, and just dismissed it as intoxication. 

By 3 a.m and one friend dumping her boyfriend in the club I find myself sitting on a wall outside of the club with said project waiting for everyone else so we can leave. We get back to the house and we've lost a few stragglers to a nearby house party. Not being completely comfortable with the thought of staying in my friends student house with 4 to a bed, I of course reply 'YES' when offered by said project to stay at his. By this point I don't think he's a perv as he hasn't tried to kiss me or made any lewd remarks...he just seems sweet and nice. 

So off we troll round the corner to the luxurious top floor apartment which he owns. Immaculate - I'm impressed. We sit on his white sofa and continue talking for a bit and then he kisses me. Good kisser - CHECK! We get carried away and go into the bedroom, but I don't sleep with him because I'm really quite drunk and generally have a rule of thumb that I stick to. If I'm too drunk to see, wait til the morning and if he's still gorgeous, do it then. So that's exactly what happened. Now the weird thing is, I feel completely comfortable with him. 

I get a phonecall from my friend who I was supposed to be staying with and she tells me to come back immediately, so me and Project go back to hers and he cuddles me and plays with my hair while we all sit in the garden. Not being used to someone being this affectionate straight away I lap up the attention...and proceed to miss my ride back to London to stay with him another night. 

So we're all at his place and a few people are round for some snacks and the cooking of the remaining food from the barbeque. We're cooking dinner together and he's kissing my neck whilst I do things round the kitchen. It's like instant relationship and we're so at ease with each other. I try not to question why this is and just enjoy it, but I should've questioned it. 

Next weekend rolls around and I hop in the car down to Southampton to see him. We're having a nice time, but I can tell he's in a scratchy mood and I say to him in jest "Me and you are going to fall out tonight." And that's exactly what happens, following going to a club and a girl chucking a drink over him, I'm wary and shocked, but just thinking maybe it was a misunderstanding. He gets drunk and starts ranting at me saying that people should respect him and talking about himself in the third person. I've noticed that he talks over people a lot, not a quality I'm keen on and after he's had his rant I sit him down and say I didn't mean to upset him, but I'm beginning to sense he's a bit more hard work than I thought. Everything is fine and we go inside and the rest of the weekend is nice. 

The following weekend it's my turn to play host, and he already gets annoyed at me for giving him bad directions to my house. I find myself apologising to him, again not something I usually feel the need to do in new romances. He arrives and it's all ok though, but after a few drinks the anger is back. As we leave my friend's bar in London we walk past a group of American's to which he passes the comment "Fucking Yanks" loud enough for them to hear and turn around and confront him. I find myself embarrassed and trying to explain to him that you cannot speak to people like that for fear of getting stabbed. I manage to tear the handsome maniac away and get him into a cab, but by this point I am fully aware that the man has got severe issues. But I'm beginning to see how he continues to make me feel comfortable. 

Beware the man that calls you Tinkerbell and Princess and showers you with compliments. After the night before antics I'm suprised with chocolates from Harrods and treated like a princess, so I'm now getting used to the high's and lows of Project Southampton. By Sunday, following amazing sex the night before and a successful dinner party in which he wowed my friends with amusing annecdotes, he's developed some sort of baby talk syndrome and guess what: I'm not into it. Not liking the dual personality that much I can't wait for him to leave but have to wait until 4 pm after having served his royal highness breakfast in bed.  

And now...I've avoided seeing him for the last weekend but am now getting text messages saying you don't love me any more. Now...at what point did I ever say I did love you. I am not someone who likes to get tamed and following a three year relationship I want to date, I don't want a boyfriend but I do like the treatment. My friend came out with something very poignant regarding this little mishap "Have you ever thought about getting to know someone a bit better before you sleep with them." And you know what I'd never entertained the thought before...so maybe I'll listen to her.