11. Last Night In Mayfair

Last Tuesday night I hope will be my last night in London with The Kuwaiti. After much deliberation about whether to see him again I decided to give him one last go. He had been driving me mad with his ramblings of a crazy person and calling up my family and friends, however he sent so many pathetic emails begging me to see him one last time that I gave in and agreed. (Note, I DO need to go to assertiveness classes.)

You see, according to the Kuwaiti his whole problem is that he has an essential chemicle missing from his liver (no, hold on - I'm not that gullible, it's true!) anyway, this chemicle he is lacking in makes him really insecure and worried about everything i.e. if he called me and I didn't answer he would start going mad thinking that I was out with someone else or I had died (stay with me, it makes sense in the end I promise!) but so long as he takes these pills to rectify it - he is fine. Once he starts taking the pills he becomes totally unemotional and unattached to anyone - hang on - now I'm writing this down it sounds like the biggest crock of shit I have ever heard! It reminds me of when you see some product you totally don't want on QVC and after they talk about it for ages on there - saying how much it's true and all it's benefits you find yourself picking up the phone and ordering 3! Now I am away from the pushy presenters and non-stop advertising I can see it's actually rubbish.

However, stupid me did agree to see him ONE LAST TIME! Luckily I got to his apartment before him so his doorman let me in - this gave me half an hour or so to just lie down and regain some physical and mental strength needed to listen to him all night. I actually ended up falling asleep. I woke to a scary sight - The Kuwaiti hovering around.

After ten minutes I discovered that he was just as self-important and annoying as before - he kept saying 'see, aren't I different now I have taken the pills?' 'You love me now I'm like this, so different' and 'I can't fight off the women now I'm taking these pills - you will fall in love with me too' (my personal favourite!) All I could think was: You are just the same as before, in fact if it's possible you're even more annoying!

His friend - Kuwaiti 2 kept calling his mobile and Kuwaiti was ignoring it - he said that Kuwaiti 2 was annoying him and he kept going on and on about this girl that doesn't love him, he is also obsessed with strippers. I wondered at this point if Kuwaiti had made up an imaginary friend he had found in the mirror. But no - double trouble. Anyway - to cut a long story short I had to suffer the evening as if I was with two old women - I'm 21 - I want to have fun! I decided there and then these old grannies just were'nt for me! I told The Kuwaiti as much the very next day (once I was safely back in my office) and have now endured about a week of ranting, crying, desperate emails - but after a week - I think it's worked, I have finally got rid of him! And sod's law - it's always the way - I have to go to a party for work in Four Seasons on Monday night - it would have been really handy to stay at his in Mayfair that night - never mind, you can't have it all!

Since ditching the guy who is most demanding both mentally and physically I decided to go out with the girls this weekend and and get wasted - god did I need it!

As a result of this night out in Southend On Sea at my favourite club, the infamous Talk (yeah!) I have two new boy interests.

My friends and I started off the night how all good nights should begin - by cracking open a big bottle of Absolut vodka in my dining room! After a couple of hours drinking and discussing the week's events, S is going for a dirty weekend in Southampton with her ex-boyfriend and J dressing up as a bunny for a night of hot sex with her boyfriend (none of us expected that one!) we head off to our favourite club, Talk - in Southend on Sea. On the way we meet two hot guys who both look really alike - one seems really sweet and asks for my number - I am a little drunk and say why not, so my friend J gives it to him. It turns out he plays for our local team, Canvey Island FC - so the very next day I get online and check out the official site - sure enough he does play for them - he's only 20 (a year younger than me) and lives in East London. (tricky)

Anyway, back to that night - we get to Talk and as usual it's great in there - they play such good music on a Saturday night! Apart from some random man trying to grope me then tipping a drink on my leg in protest everything was great! I saw a guy coming through the crowds and we moved aside to let him through - as he went past he stops and touches me to get me to speak to him - I usually ignore most guys that do this - just don't ... touch me ok!!! But he was really good looking and had a really friendly face. He and his friends stop next to me and I chat to him for a bit (as much as you can on a loud and crowded dance floor) - my friend S gives him my number (God the second one in the same night - what's going on?!?) and he promises to call the next day. For some random reason I am left with a happy feeling after speaking to him - the same kind of feeling I get after The Footballer texts me something really nice. S says to me on the way home, "are you really going to go out with that guy?" "Yes, of course I say, I know it could be difficult as he lives in London and everything but he seemed really nice!"

I finally get home in the early hours of the morning after we stop off to let S be sick at the side of the road more than once and giving a drunken boy from college a lift home. I wake up in the morning to a call from the boy from Talk - we chat easily for ages and get on really well - he asks if we can meet up for a date. This is where it starts to get difficult... you see, the boy from Talk is in a wheelchair. He can't walk. Now I have never actually had to think about this before - I mean, how many girls have? And I am NOT one to judge somebody because of a disability. I found out he had a road accident a few years ago - he says he's going to walk again and is going for an operation in America early next year on his back, however, my mum says if it's been three years then he's not likely to walk again... He lives in Brixton of all places and can't come to Essex for a date as he would have to get a friend to drive him (three on a date, and no, not in that sort of way - isn't good!) And so I find myself faced with the prospect of having to travel to Brixton alone (where I would probably be shot and killed and mugged) to meet him. I feel like I shouldn't treat him any differently just becuase he's disabled - yet I know that if another guy said they lived in London, couldn't drive and made me go there - their number would be out of my phone like a shot! Yet, I have stayed in contact with him for several days now. He phones every night (often more than once) and has sent me loads of pictures of his tattoos (god bless that picture messaging again!) Even though he can't walk he still has plenty going for him - he has his own house, is really hot, used to be a soldier and now runs his own business.

My friend Caitlyn's got it sorted - the first thing she asked was 'does IT still work?' ha - bless her it's almost as if she could read my mind - I haven't asked him outright of course but I get the general feeling that it's all working fine!

Anyway I've left it as - he may come and meet some of my friends out in Basildon on Saturday night - otherwise I am actually going to make the effort and go to Brixton after work one night.

God, what a difference a week makes. From Mayfair to Brixton - but guess where I'm happier?

10. She's Footballer Crazy, She's Footballer Mad!

I have now known The Footballer for 8 months. His presence in my life has turned me from a normal girl who dates normal guys into a back-page reading, goal-counting, Match of the Day watching, hotel-visiting, googling groupie - and it's not good.

In one way I LOVE having a crush on him - there's nothing better than having a crush on someone - especially at work - it makes you excited to get up every day and you find yourself taking extra care in your make up and clothes, that the norm for most crush-ridden girls - unfortunately for me in this instance I can't do that as I don't see him every day, so my energies have no where to be redirected to and the results are sometimes dangerous! Sometimes they leak out in the form of texts I wish I hadn't sent and going on dates with other guys who just were'nt right.

The problem with The Footballer (and something alot of people don't realise) is that he's really busy with work. He only gets one day off a week which is usually midweek - it's often not realistic to come all the way back down south and back in one day and so it's hard for us to meet up. (This is what he tells me and what I tell myself and let me continue to do so - ignorance is bliss as they say.)

I had lunch with The Geordie yesterday - he was in London for the day and we decided to catch up. he knows The Footballer and was the one that introduced us as such. I told him I was writing this blog, how it was theraputic for me to get my feeling about The Footballer out of my system and he suddenly realised just how much he had affected me. The Geordie always says he regrets ever taking me to The Footballer, and my lunch with him turned out to be quite an eye opener. The Geordie is convinced that I am one of many, many girls on his 'things to do' list and the thought makes me sick. Although I kind of knew it all along, having someone in the know telling you is like someone putting an explosive in your brain, wiring it to your heart and detonating it.

I do kind of know it's true though, right at the back of my mind. More than once he has let me down - he has promised to come down and then right at the last minute it didn't happen. I can't put into words how crushing that was to me after weeks sometimes months of just texting. The same happened just this weekend gone. I now know not to get excited unless he actually gives me a time and place. He is always texting me saying, 'don't worry I really want to see you soon - and it will be worth the wait'. It's always the same - and I wouldn't mind waiting - so long as I know WHEN it's going to be next. I don't mind if it's next year! I just want to know. It's like someone saying - you're going to get a big shock in the next 24 hours - you don't know when it's coming. It's put my life on the edge of it's seat.

To placate me during the long months inbetween seeing him I have discovered the joy of picture messaging! Some nights we text for hours on end and it's always fun to throw in a few half-naked snaps to spice it up! He sends me some that would make your eyes water and I rush to show my sister only to hear loud exclaimations of 'But that can't be real!' (I assure you readers, it is!)

I have a secret passion/talent - when I was at Beauty School years ago I learnt photographic makeup (basically normal makeup x 3!), not to mention my experience of being on a tonne of professional photoshoots for magazines and newspapers that my sister has put me in, and I know how to make pictures look good, even passport pictures! If you wore the makeup out you would look like you belonged on the Kings Cross circuit but in pics it works a treat - I can even do body make up - and girls, if you're going to be sending pictures from a phone which is unflattering as it is - you should ALWAYS used body makeup! Maybe I should write a book about it...

Anyway, Friday night I decided for the first time in ages to have a night in - it had been a long week and I wanted to just lay on my bed and watch a film. I ended up exchanging pictures and messaging with He Footballer for hours - and what fun I had! Seriously, you should try it sometime - just remember my golden rules for picture messaging a boy:

1. Never do it totally naked - that's not nice, if they want to see that then they can make the effort to come see it for real.

2. Alway use a fake tan/body makeup like Rimmel's Sunshimmer - it doesn't have to be all over - just the area you are taking a picture of

3. Use contouring to define curves - you could even use brown eyeshadow for this - very effective, and shimmer for that added pizazz.

4. If your face is going to be in them (which for revealing pics I always think is a bit risky) then make sure you times your makeup by 3. Even if it looks ridiculously thick in real life, on camera it will just about be visible.

5. Wear nice underwear and always take a picture of yourself via a mirror - never straight on.

Ta da - with these tips you just can't go wrong!

We've been talking alot more recently - The Footballer and I. He keeps saying he's going to be seeing me very very soon (and why would he lie? What would be the point?) and as a result I have become a boy-preparation victim! It's what happens when someone you really really really really really like says let's meet up soon - out come the vitamins from the back of the cupboard (need to keep skin clear and hair healthy), suddenly uo find yourself downing water all day at work for it's promise of a youthful glow and perfect complexion, evenings are spent skin brushing, nail-filing, potion rubbing-in, manicuring, face-masking and gym-going etc... Not only that but at weekends you find yourself in lingerie stores snapping up sets of sexy underwear sets that are not only totally unsuitable for actually wearing under clothes but would probably make Jodie Marsh blush. This boy preparation is such fun -they always say the best part of going out is the getting ready - and maybe it's true. But if I carry on this way until I DO see him - I will be 90% vitamin C, and own moe underwear than the Ann Summers warehouse.

9. Strange London

Strange things have been happening to me in London recently... namely four things in as many weeks. I've heard that they're digging up the victorian water pipes near Liverpool Street so maybe something's got in the drinking supply.

Last week I was getting on the train into London and as usual there weren't many seats left - I am a nightmare if you see me on a train in the morning - I refuse to stand when I've paid as much as I have for my ticket.

On this particular morning there were very few seats left - I dodged the first as it would have mean't sitting next to my ex - not a good way to start the day! As I finally reached to last spare seat on the train and sat down I realised I was sitting next to this boy that I used to work with when I was about 14. We used to collect glasses in a local social club. He was a few years older than me and used to make me kiss him - that was my first real experience with boys and I hadn't seen him since those days. Anyway, I went to sleep as usual and woke up at Fenchurch Street, made a quick exit off the train and hoped I wouldn't see him again - I can't have a proper sleep next to someone I know!

I saw him the next day at the train station, and the day after that - he was always staring! Later that day I realised why... I had got home from work and was sorting out my bag - throwing away receipts of things I would want to take back later - you know, the usual! I came across a piece of paper that I was about to throw away when I read it - it said:

"Hi - I remember you - you used to work with me, gimme a text sometime"

I couldn't believe it!! He had slipped a note into my bag whilst I was asleep on a train full of people - why did nobody tell me? He could have been putting anthrax in there or anything! I didn't respond in case you're wondering - what's the point? Ok so at the age of 13 or 14 he taught me how to kiss but that's over now. The thing I love the most? Back then he thought he was so cool - he would bring his friends down and they would smoke and I would be the younger one who they would leave with all the work while they chatted up girls but who's laughing now eh? Still - I was flattered.

The ultimate hot-spot for strange things to happen is Cannon Street in London - that's where I work. One day I was just walking along minding my own business when this man in a suit slips me a card - when I look at it is says: "I want a one night stand with you" and then goes on to say - if you're about in London and you want a one night stand - I would really like it - there's this website to go on and you type in his code or something - of course I didn't do it, but how random. I wonder if people all over London are actually doing this? This sort of thing happens to me on Cannon Street regularly - random people just start talking to me - it's ok so long as they're not weirdos who look like they belong on Crimewatch!

London is full of guys that are just waiting to talk to you - you would never get that back home. Even in nightclubs in Essex everyone more or less stays in their little group of friends they went out with and two very rarely mix.

There is one man I see almost every single day (we'll call him Tall Man) - every night as I leave work at about 5:29 I see him just by Monumnet tube station - he's really really tall and that's why I first noticed him. I don't know how it started but we started smiling at each other - it doesn't sound alot but when I see him for that fleeting second or two and he smiles I can't help but smile and it feels ... crazy! It's funny how you can be totally kissing someone... or more and feel absolutely nothing yet a small smile from a stranger you see every day and you can feel electric! Why is that? I often wonder if we will ever stop and actually speak to each other? I totally believe in fate and I find it so weird that out of the hundreds of people you walk past in rush hour through London we have singled each other out - unless of course he is a chronic smiler and just does it to every girl he passes. I wonder what he does and where he lives - I don't even know how old he is.

Once when I was about 16 someone text me by mistake - we ended up texting for about two years - we never did meet. Just as well probably as it's never the same as what your brain makes up for you. Maybe it's the same with this Tall Man. Who knows?

8. Googling - Stalker-Aid or Perfectly Normal Tool For The Safety-Savvy Girl?

Googling - along with 'the wheel' is possibly one of the best inventions known to womankind. And no, I'm not talking about for when you need to research a past King of Lebanon or how to get rid of fleas - I am talking about Man-Googling!

For any savvy girl about town these days Google is her ultimate weapon in the dating field - that is of course, if your man's Googlable*.

*Lots of girls these days rate a man's worth by their googlability. If you tap in your beloved's name and nothing comes up - what does that tell you? If he's not worth anyone writing about he's not worth sleeping with. (apparantly)

After meeting The Footballer there was so little I knew about him, and sooo much I wanted to learn! I found Google - my guiding light in what some may describe as the path to stalkerdom. As I typed his name into the little box an information super-store popped up with everything I could ever wish to know - and more! I revelled for hours (in the office, I'm not that sad to do it at home!) in pages and pages dedicated to him, and soon found out his career history, middle name - even his height and weight! Every kick, every match and every goal - all recorded right before my eyes! I soon discovered the delights of Google images and Google news - updated with new stories about your man in question every single minute.

The problem with every great invention such as Google is that it is slightly addictive - and it's just not natural. With your average guy you meet down the pub you can be on even ground with each other - you go out on dates and get to know each other slowly and equally. What's happened with The Footballer and I is I have found a massive chocolate cake of information about him - I couldn't help myself and I have gorged the lot. I feel sick and now I know everything about him I feel like a fake.

How can you act like a ...... (I hate to use this word) a fan (shudder) and yes, maybe sign up for a Google alert so everytime a new story about him is published a little message pops up in your inbox telling you so. Maybe you even type his name into.... eBay? Anyway I'm digressing - the point is - how can you obsess over him like a fan obsesses over a celebrity but still act normal with him in real life? It's nigh on IMPOSSIBLE! So what do I give up? The Google addiction or The Footballer? I can't have both - yet when I can't have The Footballer I seek solace in the Google findings - without it I would be lost.

Top 10 Wrong Things I Have Done On The Internet Since Meeting The Footballer:
(just to confirm - I AM ashamed of these - alot.)

1. Googled him to death - found out every statistic and report written on him.

2. Signed up to Google alerts so I get my 9am fix of The Footballer.

3. Drooled over Google images of him for several hours.

4. Researched Google news stories and found out some dodgy secrets and a somewhat shady past.

5. Put his name into eBay and looked at all the stuff you can buy to do with him... if some happened to slip into my shopping basket blame my dodgy mouse, not me!

I will begin to practise self-restraint in order to preserve my relationship with The Footballer - it's the only way forward. It's like a sugar rush - you think you always need it but as soon as you cut out those Aeoros for just a day - you find you don't need it anymore - and don't you feel a whole lot better!?!

7. My Man Collection

I agreed to go out on a date with The Kuwaiti about a week after our first meeting. I figured anything to take my mind off The Footballer who was intoxicating my brain would do me good. I have now somehow ended up spending alot of time with him over the last few months despite him driving me CRAZY and he has actually called me his... girlfriend... ugh. (shudder)

The first time we went out we went for dinner in Chinatown - I LOVE chinese! He was talkative, friendly and just generally easy to get on with. After that he took me to a members-only club in St.James' called Fifty. It was an amazing place and he insisted on showing all round it - the casino, and even the nightclub. It was getting late so we went back to his apartment which was only a 3 minute walk away - it was amazing - like being in a hotel or something. Before I realised, a bit like Cinderella, that it was gone midnight and not only did I feel awful as I had been in the same makeup and clothes since seven that morning - but I also needed some serious sleep before work the next day.

As he drove me home, all the way back to Essex I couldn't help wondering, did I really like him or was it just because of all the fluff? I mean, the great apartment in Mayfair with veiws of the London Eye, the great places he had taken me to and the easy conversation? What about if it was just him and we had gone to the local McDonalds? Would I still be this excited? I figured it was the actual DATE I had enjoyed so much, not so much his company. The thought left me with a heavy heart as I had already collected too many of these men. They crowded my inbox with emails, cluttered up my phone with missed called and texts and invaded my life with their demands on my time - did I really want to add another to the list?

Ok so they were handy if you wanted someone to lunch with, get you in exclusive places, to go to the cinema with and take you out for dinner - and of course the ultimate job that none of your actual friends can do - have a great night of hot sex! That comes in very very handy! You see, since being stuck with The Boyfriend for two years I really don't want to get into another relationship so soon - I mean - I'm only 21 and unless The Footballer asked me out (who I am obviously totally in love with!) I want to keep all men at arm's length. Of course I'm not strong-willed enough to go without occasional male company - and why should I? So instead of picking up dangerous randoms I have collected a little group of what I call my Floaters - they all have their purpose and consist of exes and possible boyfriends who never quite made it to the grand prize of calling me their girlfriend. My top floaters range in their services and my favourites are as follows:

The Kuwaiti - 34 going on 70 - acts and sounds like an old woman. Drives me mad with his incessent drivel about nothing, but on the upside has a great apartment I can use in Mayfair, takes me out to great places and buys me presents. His secret star quality of why I keep going back for more? He is great in bed - he's a little freaky and is slightly addicted to spanking but hey - who isn't?

The Footballer Look A Like - Met him whilst drunk shortly after meeting The Footballer - he listened to my moaning about wanting The Footballer and if I have a few vodkas and squint my eyes a little you can almost imagine it's him! He's sweet and caring and we get on great. His one crime? He is WAAAAY too Jamaican! I know it sounds terrible but it's true. He's way too cultured for my liking - sometimes I just guess what he's saying and he's one of those types who shops in the 'Foods Of The World' aisles in Tesco.

The First Ex Boyfriend - My first real boyfriend - he's sweet and hot in a conventional Calvin Klein Model kinda way (if you like that sort of thing) We ended up good friends and he's a diamond if you want any DIY doing or someone to hang out with in London at lunch. His weakness: Cheating - you'll never get him out of that habit!

The Geordie - We love him! Not in a sexual way - ever! He introduced me to The Footballer and for that I am eternally grateful! He is a legend as my personal VIP organiser - if I want to go out anywhere whether in Newcastle or London I just give him a little call or email before I go and he ensures I don't queue or pay and get in VIP whenever I want - I bet everyone wishes they had a floater like him! His only downside? Complete womaniser but luckily that doesn't affect me as I am totally never going there!

There are other rarely-used floaters for all occasions but maybe I am growing too big a collection? When the right guys does come along am I going to be able to give them all up? They're like my little army of men - seperately they're useless half-men who I have no need for in my life - but together they are strong - I can pick and choose which aspects I like of each floater and not worry about the parts I don't like - after all they're not my boyfriends!

I wonder if I too am just a floater in their lives too though - and in which case, what the hell's wrong with me eh!

6. Me, Speed Dating? No Thanks! Free Drinks You Say? Why Not!

It's about a month since I slept with The Footballer and in a bid to get over him I have made the executive decision to see other guys. The Footballer and I are still full-on texting and stuff but due to his work and our long-distance I don't get the time to see him and it's driving me crazy.

My friends from college and I decided to go out in London one Saturday night - my friend, Trevor from Australia was having a party but we were headed out to some bars in Leiscester Square first.

We were just walking past The Penthouse when some crazy guy runs out and asks us to come in and join in as they didn't have enough girls. I have now been 'dating' that crazy guy for several months. (We'll call him The Kuwaiti) We weren't really up for speed dating but free entry into Penthouse and the promise of free drinks? Too much for us vodka-lovin' gals to resist!

It was the funniest/freakiest night of my life - half the men didn't speak English and the other half were total weirdos. The man that brought us in however was relatively hot - enough to turn my head anyway.

The dating was over and we ended up bonding over plastic surgery - he loved my boobs and confided in me that he had had 4 nose jobs (I later found out the looks-obsessed freak had also had £10k worth of work to his teeth, thread viens removed from his leg and his botched circumcision tidied up - ouch.) Really I ought to have known better and should have seen it coming then. But I didn't. He was funny and charming and it turned out his family were quite big in Kuwait - he had an amazing apartment in Mayfair and many business deals going on to do with oil - now pound signs weren't exactly flashing in my eyes - but I was a hell of a lot more interested!

He got me talking to a guy who sponsors Formula 1 or something - now imagine the Scottish character in Little Britain - now times that by ten, add some crazy teeth and a shock of ginger hair and you've got Formula 1 Guy. The Kuwaiti let on that he was probably one of the most eligible men in London and came speed dating because he lacked confidence with girls - when I saw all the girls laugh off his chat-up lines and eagerly wait for their 3 minute 'date' with him to be over I was overcome with amusement that these girls could be so shallow (if only they knew who this little ginger man was!)- why just judge someone on their looks? I think it's alot worse to judge someone by their looks than if they've got money.

Let Me Justify Myself

Take me for example - I don't really rate looks alot - you lose them as you get older and it's just not fair on those who are cosmetically challenged. Now money - that I'm attracted to - well not so much the money - more their success. If a man's successful and has a great career then that does it for me, that says alot about them - it's part of who they are. I don't want a man who doesn't have his own cash - that's not sexy - and I don't think I'm wrong for thinking it. Lots of girls do - they just don't say it.

Anywho - we went on to the party that night and left the speed daters behind but my relationship with The Kuwaiti was to grow and grow. A convenient distraction from The Footballer? Or a real possibility of love for me - Essex Girl?

5. If Heaven is a Bed, and God is a Man - Then I Have Slept On and With Them Both

Darn taxi was late getting to the hotel, errr... yes hotel... in the middle of the day... a week day.

As I walked into the foyer there were about 20 business men in there and I had to go to the reception and ask to be taken to The Footballer's room. As I said his name as quietly as I could I could feel the stares burning into my back and suddenly became fully aware of what I looked like - the choices were grim:

a. Just another groupie - how many has he had up there this week?

b. An actual hooker

I don't know what's worse!

I wanted to turn around and scream at them all that:

I'm not a groupie! I am not just at his beck and call because he's rich - HE chased ME! I have known him a month so this technically isn't even a first date! (not that a first date should ever be in a hotel room anyway) - don't judge me because of my Essex accent, my blonde hair and yes! These are FAKE! That doesn't automatically make me a gold digger who runs to do a kiss and tell in The News of The World before she's even got out the room! But you know what? I AM about to go and spend some serious hours NAKED with a hot guy that half your wives would trip over you to get to - so leave your judgements for them, not me!

Of course I didn't and instead went up to the room to meet my fate - and what a fate it was!

He met me at the door and I instantly noticed how tall he was - and how muscular and good looking..... sorry! And my nerves quickly dissolved into 'get me in that room - now!'

We chatted for a bit but it was obvious why we were both there and now I was glad that we were in the privacy of our own room - the chemistry was amazing (I'm sure you can't imagine that) and it was minutes before we were taking each other's clothes off.

His body was perfect and he is the most well-endowed man I have ever met - how did THIS never leak out onto the google findings? A girl should be warned.

Take your hand off the mouse and stretch your arm out - now if you're a girl like me I am not joking it was about the same size as my arm from wrist to elbow.

I had a great time, I had a great time three times... in five hours.

I had kind of hoped that once meeting him today that my little (major) crush would end. After all it's always the way isn't it - you admire someone from afar then once you have them it never lives up the expectation right? WRONG! It was all I had hoped for - and then some.

I had been emotionally trapped by him since the moment I met him - I waited on his texts, thought about him and talked my friends to death about him - and now here I was, I had done it- my milestone. Sorry I didn't tell you about the milestone. You see I've never done drugs, but what I feel for The Footballer is how I imagine it is to be addicted to drugs. I am always craving one more hit - just a single text from him can send my mood sky-high and I had come to depend on him to make me happy. I always wanted just a little... bit... more. I thought, right when I sleep with him that will be it - I will have acheived the ultimate goal (see what I did there) in getting as close to him as possible - except it's never enough is it? Sleeping with someone means you might be in the same bed, might even be as physically close as two people can be - but emotionally you can feel as if you are completely alone.

Anyway I ended up leaving his bed that day on a complete high - I had had my ultimate fix of The Footballer - my biggest yet. As I got in the taxi to go home I couldn't stop smiling to myself and felt an urge to call everyone I know telling them all about it. Unfortunately the taxi driver was also interested - he kept asking me why I had been meeting HIM - how did I know HIM - he couldn't believe that HE had called up some cabs for us - then the ultimate insult - he said:

"I couldn't believe it when The Footballer called up for two cabs - we raced to get there to see him - my mate Tony got to take the superstar and I got stuck with you"

Nice. But nothing could drag me down off my high!

I just hoped that this little rendez-vous hadn't fuelled my longing for him even more - because it felt like a dangerous game to be in - kind of like football where my heart is the ball, and I am now powerless to stop it being kicked.

4. Kiss and Shhhhhh

Ok so The Boyfriend is gone and I am lost to a world of football. I turn up to work on Monday and ask a couple of the guys there if they have heard of The Footballer, of course they have and that's when I realise he is well and truly famous - I am immediately given facts, statistics and almost inside leg measurements as well as a whole host of links to pictures, stories and profiles of him. I can't believe it - I could walk up to any man on the street and about 80% of them could tell me more about this man of my dreams than I knew already.

We had been texting and speaking on the phone for almost a month. The texts were fast and furious, often late into the night. He would call me at home and we would speak about all sorts of stuff - we had exchanged at least 500 texts during this time and several hours of phone conversations yet I knew virtually nothing about him. It's not that I wasn't interested because believe me I was! It's not like if you had just met a guy in a club - your first time of talking to him on the phone might go like:

Hey, so what do you do for a living? (Don't tell me - I already know, and so does everyone I speak to. Do you think I didn't notice the queue of girls lining up to talk to you, do you think I haven't seen the hundreds of websites dedicated solely to your past and present career documenting every goal, every fall and every step? Do you think that now I know you I don't simply skip the back pages of The Sun where you face and name regularly appear for all to see?)

So, what do you do in your spare time? (Did you know that if you google news stories I can tell exactly what you do in your spare time, I know when you got drunk, where and with who? It even had a story about you in the paper the other week for some misdemeanour or another.)

As you can see it just doesn't work. That's why I find it so hard to speak to him sometimes - when he mentions he's 'got a match' there I was thinking - oh it's just a kick about with probably a few fans watching - after all it is a Wednesday night - not a statium full of several thousand fans, full press turnout, live coverage on tv and a full report (with pictures, thank you lord!) in the paper the next day. This is big time - and I'm not sure I can blag not knowing just how successful and well known he is much longer.

You see my sister's the expert - she says that he has girls throwing himself at him all the time - they research him and find out where he goes, they know his entire back catalogue and maybe he's fed up of that. I think what made him like me is the fact that I didn't know who he was - that's why for the first few weeks I made out I didn't really know what he did - I can't keep it up anymore - but how do you perfect the harmony between cool girl and groupie?

My day finally came - I could no longer hold out and pretend to be aloof - I gave in and met up with The Footballer on a Wednesday - I had done the commute to work (almost 2 hours) when he called me - just as I was walking into the office, he said he had a day off and as that doesn't happen very often he is back in his home town which isn't very far from me and begged me to go see him. I turned around and went straight back home, jigging as I went! ( don't know what a jog is but I am pretty sure I was doing one that day!) I was sooooo nervous after all I didn't even really speak to him that much on the night - this was going to be kind of a first date - although I knew there were going to be absolutely NO first date rules!

I got home and did some frantic Bridget Jones stylee getting ready - did you know you can wash your hair, have a bath, shave your legs, moisturise and sunshimmer, do your make up and straighten your hair in under an hour and a half if the motivation is strong enough?

Everything was going along so well I was ready early for my taxi! So what does a girl do when she's ready for some full on bed action with one of the country's hottest sports stars? Puts on some KanYe West and dances around in her underwear of course! That's right - the bitch with the heart of stone actually danced she was so excited - about a man! I was more excited than the night before christmas - and today I was due to get a BIG stocking!

3. Boyfriend Out - Footballer In!

It's the morning after my weird night in Tiger Tiger. I've had NO sleep and have a huge hangover. You know when you know you've drunk too much and you're on your way home and all you want to do is lay down and be totally still? You want it more than anything but HAVE to brush your teeth and at least attempt to take some of your make up off to avoid looking like a hooker the next morning. The MOMENT I got into bed what happens? A FIRE ALARM! Someone had SET LIGHT to the Travelodge - the damned carnies! We were all evacuated and had to stand in the freezing North East air in February at about 4am. I wasn't best pleased.

All this had happened and it was the day to go home - what better to cheer me up than an anonymous text?! 'Morning Sexy' from a totally random number - one of those ones you have to buy because it's such a recognisible number. Was it Patrick? I replied and asked who it was - the reply came and sent me into shock. It was the name of one of the footballers! (We'll call him The Footballer) It slowly all dawned on me - I had been snared! Patrick was talking to me all night because The Footballer had told him to get my number - I couldn't believe it. I felt so stupid, so used, so..... GREAT!

Why hadn't The Footballer come over and spoken to me himself? Oh hang on I think he had tried but I was busy with Patrick... maybe Patrick really had liked me but had to give me up to The Footballer - that doesn't seem fair. Maybe that's his job - the whole thing was so seamless and fooled me - how many girls does he do this to? The Footballer must have a big... ego to assume they will all fall at his feet the moment he texts them. I fell. Hard.

It all started out like some crazy made-for-tv Channel 5 film - a young girl goes out and meets a famous man, HE tracks HER down - he is texting and calling her ALL DAY (literally it was a 7 hour journey home and I didn't get bored once!) - it's all a bit surreal. Why is he texting ME? Little old me... ok so I do have a pretty good bum I am always told - and I DO have 33" legs... hmmm, maybe I could pull this off!

I get home and everything is back to normal - except for a tiny problem called The Boyfriend. I had wanted to dump him for several months. Every time I mentioned it he did something to make me feel bad. The latest guilt trip was buying me a car. Maybe I should carry on... NO! It's cruel and it's wrong.

I cared about him and everything as we had spent a lot of time together but seriously, it was like having sex with your brother (not that I have one or have ever experienced that - hello - I'm not from Illinois!) - so I simply didn't anymore much to his annoyance! When I got back he happened to be snooping through my phone (snoopers never prosper - apart from Snoop Dog) and found all the texts. He demanded I delete his number and all the texts - it was either him or The Footballer. Halleighjuliah Praise The Lord! My decision was made easy - although I had cared about The Boyfriend once I had never felt anything like this! Receiving every text was electric - it may have just been that radiation you get that makes the radio go funny, but I liked it, and there was NO WAY I was going to give this up. And so The Boyfriend was no more.

2. How To Pull a Footballer in a Primark Top

Prada? No thanks sweetie I've got Primark.

The whole need to write a diary started out in February of this year. It was my 21st birthday and my friends and I were headed for a weekend of fun in Newcastle. I have a good friend I met throught my old job as the PA - we'll call him Geordie. He met us in Newcastle and assured me that if I was with him I could go wherever I want, whenever I want - he would make it a birthday to remember! He also promised me footballers - hello! Just becuase I'm blonde, from Essex and have fake boobs doesn't mean I want to date a footballer. Well... ok so before we went we maybe did a little research on the Newcastle United team - just to see what they looked like and see if there were any hotties! There were. It was really never my intention to meet one though and is totally not my style. I had a boyfriend of 2 years and had enough of an image cliche without adding a footballer to the list.

Anyways, we end up in Tiger Tiger, it's really crowded and full of crazy Newcastle people so Geordie and I head off to the VIP lounge. We're not in there long when Geordie points out that there's a group of footballers he knows (at this point I am thinking - how comes he gets treated like royalty round here - I simply mention his name on a door and I am IN - anywhere I want. What's that about? And now he's friends with a bunch of famous footballers? I don't get it! I would later...)

I only recognise one player as he plays for England, or he used to - I wasn't that up on football at the time. There was a really hot guy with them, let's call him Patrick - he was really sweet and we chatted all night. There were a load of other guys there - footballers I assumed and one tried to talk to me once or twice, nothing major though. Now let me tell you about what I have experienced about being out in the presence of footballers. Those girls that are out there just to bag one are SICK. There we were chatting away and some of those girls were just embarrassing - doing ANYTHING to get their attention! One was practically doing a lap dance to a table leg, it makes me shudder even now. It was like I suddenly found myself in a queue of crazy wannabes auditioning for Big Brother! I wasn't that fussed though - I didn't recognise any of these footballers anyway and thanks to my super-successful sister who works in the media I have been to so many celebrity parties that I just do not get star struck anymore - especially by someone I don't recognise!

During the course of the night I am asked back to their 'party'. I had heard about these 'parties' and although the Absolut vodka-fuelled gold digga part of my brain was screaming YES, sense prevailed and I declined. I didn't really want to be handcuffed to a bed along with the desperate lap dancing girl and be filmed. (Well that's what happens isn't it?)

It was getting on for 3am and was so tired I had to go back to the hotel - I tell Patrick I have to leave and he suddenly pounces and asks for my number - jackpot I think - he's sweet, he's not a footballer so I know he's not crazy and he's dead hot! What more could you want? I give it to him and here's where it starts to get weird - he said he would text me in the morning but he will have changed his number by then. Huh?

Suspicious... little did I know it was to be the beginning of the weirdest 'relationship' I have ever had. Yes, a premiership footballer had looked through the queue (I'm not exaggerating) of Big Bro stylee contestant girls half naked and in his face with offers of things that I couldn't even imagine and had singled out the Essex girl in the corner chatting to the only non-famous guy in the room in a £3 Primark top. I love it when things work out like that!

1. Does 500cc's Of Silicone Really Change Your Life?

The year 2006 - I turned 21 and decided to change my life - I was going to... save the world? Travel to Africa to help the aids epidemic? No - I was going to get a boob job.

You see I've thought about this for as long as I could remember - if only I wasn't so afraid of needles, if only I had the money etc... I thought about it so much yet I never told a single soul. I find that. If it's something you're so hung up on the last thing you want to do is draw attention to it. So after years of wanting and wishing I finally decided enough was enough. It was the summer of 2004, I had finished college and sold my horse, my beloved Harvey, the last token of being young and free. Long gone were the days of dossing off college to go to the pub, drinking on week nights and riding round the beach all day - as I breathed in his horsey leathery smell for the last time I realised it wasn't just a horse I was letting go of, it was my childhood. Bring it on!!

With the money I got from the sale of Harvey I went and bought myself some new clothes perfect for interviews and headed off to London and became a PA to the head of a well known bookmakers. Within months I could see that my student years of living off £50 a week I made in the local nightclub had really made me tight with money, and as my sister put it - Jewish. She even has me saved on her phone as Horrowitz. Anyway - soon the money was piling up. As my friends were getting into debt with overdrafts and loans and credit cards (the thought of a credit card makes me shudder) I was secretly stacking up a pile of cash for 'The Op'.

My first year of work was harsh. Long hours, long commute, hard work, and a lot of blagging! After six months a new PA was brought in to work 'alongside' me - alongside my ass! More like trample on top of me, and jump on me until I am nothing but DUST. The girl knew nothing and being almost 10 years my senior had to act as if she knew it all. Of course she didn't and to cut a long blog short I spent the next 6 months or so crying every day at the unfairness of it all.

I had tried confronting her straight on, everything - nothing worked. Apparantly if you're only 20, blonde and from Essex you're always the dumbest in the room.

Finally one day I snapped. I quit my job with just enough money in my bank for The Op, some good experience and a lot of relief to be out of the situation.

I decided there and then that this was the point to have The Op. If I could walk out of my job with no fear (ok there was a little fear and I did call some well known employments agencies the minute I was out the door) then I could do this.

I know that people say - if you expect surgery to change your life then you will be disappointed but I definately haven't been. It's like when they cut me open on that table they didn't just put silicone in there - they implanted a mojo too! Things have turned crazy this year and I want to document them on here so that I can have a record of it to see how things have changed for me.

I have had my new boobs for 7 months now and the three of us are getting on just fine - I think it's going to be the start of a long and happy relationship.