Sleeping killer..

Mentioning “pump, pump, squirt” in my last blog jogged memories of other cringe worthy or slightly shocking incidents that have entered themselves in the index of my colourful life. A lot of these stories have given my friends many hysterical laughing fits so I thought I’d share the love and give all of you a giggle too.

One of the all time funniest and also scary episodes of my story is when I was dating a chap from Leeds that I’d met through mutual friends. We’d been together for about a month and it was going really well, we’d have some fantastic dates, spent hours on the phone talking and had so much in common that I really thought I was onto a bit of a winner.

The weekend arrived that we’d planned I was going to stay at his for the first time, he’d cooked me a fabulous meal, we’d spent the evening chatting and getting cosy in his local bar then as time progressed it was clear that the chocolate brownies he’d made weren’t the only thing we’d be having for dessert.

We retired to his room and began getting down to business. It was nice, pretty standard if I’m going to be brutally honest but sometimes the first night with a guy isn’t all fireworks and you have to give it a while to get to know each other so this wasn’t a negative point in my mind until we snuggled up and drifted off to sleep.

Now unlike some ladies I don’t enjoy having someone’s body wrapped around me all night, an arm over me to begin with is acceptable, suffocating me for a whole eight hours is not what adds up to a great night’s sleep for me so I gave it a little time for him to fall into a deep enough slumber for me to carefully untangle myself and break free.

I had noticed he’d begun to grind his teeth and make some particularly odd noises as he obviously began dreaming which I found highly amusing but it also made me want to roll away even more. My foot was under his at this point, I was lying on my back and he was on his side with his arm over me. I gently removed his arm and went to slide my foot away from his so I could turn over.

To my horror this movement made him jump upright in bed and shout “MOVE YOUR FUCKING FOOT BACK, MOVE IT BACK NOW!”

“You what?!” I gasped. No reply.

I looked over in utter bemusement and noticed he was still asleep and carried on making some massively loud and strange mumbling noises, at this point I can safely say I thought I was laying next to a sleep talking axe murderer.

So I move my foot back and remain rigidly still for at least another hour as I frantically thought about what to do next. I couldn’t lay there until he wakes or risk him doing that or more! Then the arm comes back over, this time much nearer to my neck than I’m comfortable with, is it this point where he begins to squeeze the life out of me?

I managed to reach my phone and send an emergency “get me out of here” text message to my friend who was also spending the night in Leeds and I’d given a lift to. She rang with some fake crisis that woke him up and I made my excuses, got dressed quicker than I had ever before and ran out the door with only one shoe on.

I was back home before the sun had risen and thanked my lucky stars I’d not been a story line for the 9 o’clock news.

It goes without saying I didn’t ever see him again.