“I’m waiting on the handsome plumber story…”
Once upon a time, I was VERY hungover. Like, last night’s makeup smeared across my face and still in the same clothes hungover, with a massive spot and hair like dreadlocks because it was too much effort to brush it.
I’m laid on my sofa, questioning my poor choices and trying not to throw up, when there’s a knock at my door. Living in a block of flats meant that if I had a visitor the buzzer on the outside of the building would ring. A knock meant it was someone who was already inside. I was too hungover to think about this in any detail but probably thought it was Shelley.
It wasn’t.
It was a rather attractive young man. His mouth was moving but it was like there was no sound. My brain couldn’t work at normal speed; it was a few seconds behind. I just looked at him with vacant eyes. “Sorry, what? I’m not quite with it.” He looked at me a little strangely and repeated himself, a little slower this time.
He was a plumber, coming to have a look at something in number 8 but didn’t have a key to get in. I had a spare but was a bit reluctant to let him in as he could have been anyone. And also my brain couldn’t compute any actual actions or decisions. Thinking about it, I’m still not sure how he got in the building.
I started to think about what a ridiculous mess I looked but quite frankly I was too hungover to care. I knew Niamh was having plumbing work done so I told him I’d let him in but would have to supervise and spent the few minutes while he poked around in the bathroom wishing he’d hurry up so I could go and lay back down on my sofa and slowly shrivel up into a dehydrated mess.
He finally finished after what seemed like about 3 days and I was able to crawl back under my rock, mumbling goodbye while shutting the door in his face.
I retold the story to Shelley and she knew who I’d been talking about as he’d done some work in her flat too (she had the same landlord). “He was cute. You should’ve invited him into your flat.” she laughed.
“Jesus christ no. I could barely speak, looked like Hagrid on a bad day and needed to lay down before I collapsed. No.”
I never thought much more about this moment, in fact I’d pretty much forgotten it, due to the aforementioned hangover stupor. I certainly wouldn’t have thought he would’ve remembered it either, until I got a message through my blog from someone asking if I used to live in The Park in Cheltenham.
“Errr, yes I did. Did we meet at some point?”
“I thought it was you. I went to the flat next door a few times to do some work and had to knock your door for some reason. I thought it was the same person haha.”
Cue a random and sporadic correspondence with Liam, who it turns out loves reading my blog and wonders when I will tell his story. Using the word handsome multiple times.
So here you go Liam, this one’s yours.
And yes, you were handsome.
The Paps Life 