Last weekend I spent my Saturday at a tweet up. For those of you that our not lovers of twitter as I am, let me elaborate; a tweet up is when a small or large group of tweeters, who converse on twitter, select a time and date to be in a specific location at the same time. I know what you're all thinking; THAT IS SO WILD! You'd be right. We are the embodiment of Rock and Roll over on that social network. Quite Obvs.
Last weekend came the time for a tweet up once again and this time I was meeting with the creme de la creme. There were four of us in total and I'm afraid our Capital City was going to regret being the easiest location to house our wee gathering. I envisioned that this tweet up would bring out my girliest and giggliest side. It did. I even thought about grabbing a boob a two. What can I say, I was quite literally giddy. I felt as if I was 14 again and it was the first time I'd been allowed to go shopping in Brighton with my girlfriends, unaccompanied by an adult (when I was 14 and I did head off to the heights of Brighton for the first time, I wore a floor length skirt. With a slit up to my thigh. With a tight fitting jumper. And, if I'm not mistaken 'high heals'. It shames me even now to think of it. I have no doubt of my mothers laughter at her youngest daughter the whole time I was out. Let's move on now, shall we!? Thanks).
So what made the anticipation to this tweet up so very exciting? The location? Nope, I'm a total London whore. I'm lucky enough to have lived there and have the closest friends and family still residing in its effortlessly cool surroundings. The itinerary? It was lunch and a pub; hardly heart palpitating stuff there is it!
There was one reason and one reason only for my child like excitement, and that was the girls themselves. The conversations the four of us find ourselves in during our twitter ramblings replica the conversations I have with The Blonde One and Dynasty. Not an easy task.
I knew that we would get along famously. I knew that I would both snort with laughter and spit out my drink at least once. I knew I would laugh so hard that tears would leave my eyes and a little wee might escape from Athena (yes, she has a name). How was I so confident of this summary? Because they are all things that have happened when conversing with them on twitter. The thought of being alone without the restraints of a social networking site, well, I could only imagine. Don't try and imagine this yourself, you may implode. And then you won't be able to read my musings and that would cause me great sadness and I am almost certain that none of you want that, right? Guys? Guys?
The girls did not disappoint. They were warm, beautiful and so side splittingly funny that if the night had continued, singing involving "I will always Love You!!" may have escaped my lips. I may have even showed them my bra. Oh, shucks, I did do that. Don't judge me, I was nervous. It just happened. Like verbal diarrhoea but with my hands and the top of my bra. You would have done the same if you'd been wearing your pretty red bra too. Stop looking at me like that.
Moving on.
The subject, as we all knew it would, turned to men. Boys. We analysed current love interests and then laughed at the childest way we said (OK, fine, the way *I* said) "but look he left five kisses. He never leaves kisses. What does that mean!?" I'm telling you men do not do this. I imagine those conversations goes something along the lines of "Yeah, then I said 'Man, you are a little fittie. And she was like 'Yeah, baby!' So that's cool!" "Nice one, mate!" *throws arms in the air* If I ever thought I wasn't much of a girl, last weekend proved me wrong. I talked about The Boy with hope, lust and despair and blushed when answering questions about him. I giggled at the girls stories and found myself yelling "I know, right!! I've so done that. Why do we do it!? WHY!?" The feeling of belonging and normality filled me within a few seconds and stayed with me until I hugged them all good bye.
I couldn't possibly go into the fine detail, the blueprint of our day, however, one conversation has had such an impression on me that I feel the need to share with you all. It has changed me, perhaps forever.
The one that shall now be known as The Silent Crier (an ironic name that I hope will make her titter) shared an expression with us that her friends and her use to explain, in the simplest of terms, why a guy hasn't cut the mustard, tickled the funny bone or made the ovaries do backflips, and that expression is "The Feathery Stroker". I laugh even writing it.
Let me explain. The Feathery Stroker is a guy who doesn't take the lead. Who is so far removed from the lead that he's wondering around in a different country to the lead asking people for directions. In the wrong language. A guy who ASKS if he can kiss you, instead of just taking in his arms and surprising you before you can bite that bottom lip of yours (don't lie, we all do it!). A guy who cries silently when you're sleeping because of your beauty alone (yes, sadly The Silent Crier has had to suffer this. Hence the ironic name. Can you even imagine the horror!) A guy who draws you when you're sleeping (just, why!?). A guy who asks "am I doing it right?" during sexy time. If you're looking for a mood killer, look no further. I want to add "A guy who grabs his guitar and just jams, improvises a ditty about your beauty" but The Red Lipped One may hit me.
A Feather Stroker is a man that needs too much encouragement. A guy who doesn't scoop you up in his arms, kiss you and make your heart leap into your throat before you even know what is happening. A guy who wouldn't dream of leaving, knocking at the door a few seconds later only to kiss you, smile seductively and leave again. The Boy really knows how to make me melt sometimes.
To quote The Silent Crier herself when discussing our despair at a Feathery Stroker " 'Was it good for'... 'Can I touch your'... Get out now...go and cry silently at someone else" She doesn't mince her words and why should she. It's true. It's so hard to find someone you connect with and when that person turns out to have about as much sex appeal as a small rubber duck, well, it's enough to send our hormones into a rage.
Of course, there are some of you out there that are probably thinking, some of us like a gentleman. I agree, I haven't grown up on the novels of Jane Austen without developing a love of true gentlemanly conduct, but can you honestly say that Fitzwilliam Darcy would have turned to Elizabeth of their wedding night at said "sorry, darling, do you mind terribly if I just put my hand on your breast there? Thank you so much. Capital news!". Of course, he wouldn't. He would have grabbed her by her lace bodice and unbuttoned her dress so slowly that the chill running up and down her spine would have giving Bolt a run for his money. Would Fitzwilliam have pointed to the bed and said " shall we?". Not Darcy, he would have swooped up his new wife and placed her on the bed in one movement before kissing Elizabeth so passionately that she would have almost missed his hands touching and teasing every inch of her skin. Fitzwilliam Darcy is the definition of a gentlemen and not one section of his character screams Feathery Stroker.
But why should this have changed me so much? Because this week, when conversing with The Boy I have suddenly realised that perhaps from time to time I have let myself be a tad 'Feathery Stroker'. Or at least the capability of Stroker tendencies. This will not do. I have not stopped the mush, however, I have made sure I have not held back when it comes to mocking. If I don't like a feeble and feathery one, why should a man? So girls, boys, members of the animal kingdom, please listen; if you feel a spark or that undeniable heat between you and another, and the person that is looking at you has a mischievous smile and a longing in their eyes...just sodding kiss them. If you ask them beforehand, I will hunt you down and I will fart in your general direction before tattooing "Feathery Stroker" on your chest. Don't make me use my cross face!
If you have to ask, you might as well say "sorry, do you mind if my mother watches!?" for that is how much passion you have removed.
If you feels yourself having Feathery Stroker tendencies, just think "What would Darcy or Elizabeth do?" It may just give you the best kiss you've had all year.
