I had made plans to see an ex fling whilst in Scandinavia; a guy who came into my life seven years ago like a knight in shining armour (I had had my handbag stolen in a club thanks to dancing with him, and he got me home safely and took me out for dinner the next night, things went from there...), yet distinctly cringe-worthy conversation.

"Ride me honey", "I always shave my balls" (with demonstration) and: "Can my friend come up, she'll only stay for an hour or so" (to a puzzled Indian hotelier who then attempted to charge him extra), still make my ears throb.

Phat Boy wasn't happy.
We hadn't really made any plans save for driving around, having lunch by the beach and going to the movies later, but he still insisted I was over there for too short a time to make too many plans not involving him. Ugh!

He kept attempting to grab my hand on the pier and whilst walking along the beach, and although I went along with it sometimes, it didn't feel comfortable.
"What's with the PDAs?" I asked him. He laughed and asked me what that was, being Swedish and all. "Oh, I am just an affectionate guy" he told me when I explained.

Due to some number-miscommunication and him locking himself out of his house, the ex fling didn't turn up until 2pm or so, by which time Phat Boy and I had ordered our lunches and nearly run out of conversation.
I had warned him that the ex's car might be a two-seater, and since the plan had been for him to take me on a drive, there may not be room for Phat Boy, too. Surely he should understand that!? After all, I'd see him at the cinema and for dinner that night...

As it happened, he was just extremely awkward, and made me feel awkward and guilty, too. I can't imagine an English guy being that graceless- he'd just say ok, and elegantly stay out of the way. It's what I would do, it's only polite. After all he's not my boyfriend, and neither is the other guy, so no need to be possessive and jealous!

Eventually, the ex's car rolled up, gleaming in the sunshine and with the speakers blaring, and right enough, it was a tiny two-seater as anticipated.
He got out and walked over to us, recognising me immediately- and boy, he was so flash my eyes hurt!
His hair was groomed in a very "done" way- I can't imagine ANY straight boy in the UK with that much colour, highlights and product in his hair- he was wearing white-and-gold Gucci sunglasses, a white tailored shirt and jeans.
DOLCE AND GABBANA! screamed his belt, he strolled over to us in polished designer shoes with tiny holes in them, and enveloped us in his scent like a travelling perfumery.
I must say, I have always loved a touch of Cool Water, but this was like a flood of biblical proportions!
Still, he looked handsome and cute, and a lot younger than his 37 years (thanks, no doubt, to an extensive and pricey skin-care routine).

As soon as he sat down, the cock-fight started.
"I thought we'd have all day", said Flash Boy, in a disappointed voice, "I've made no other plans".
"I think you're not here long enough to see ten different people" was Phat Boy's opinion. I smiled and ate my steak, attempting light-hearted conversation to get the two rivals to get along.

Instead, they just started competing about their successes in business, and although I tried to follow the banter, I mentally fell asleep and just enjoyed the cheese sauce with my lunch.
"So, what shall we do?" asked Flash Boy.
"It's a bit awkward for me", said Phat Boy, "I would like to tag along, so why don't we just go somewhere together? You won't have much time anyway since the film starts at 5:30..."
"But it's only half past two!", I replied, getting annoyed. "I don't think a weekend is too short to go away and see a few people, it's what we do in the UK. When I went to Berlin, I saw about 6 people in three days, and met lots of new people, too! And I don't think a couple of hours is too short to go on a drive somewhere in the sun. I'd like to go with Flash in his convertible, as that was the plan, and I'll see you at five at the cinema. Do you know where it is?" I asked Flash Boy, and Phat Boy gave him directions in Swedish with a long face.
AAAHRGH!

Still feeling guilty (why, oh why!?), I watched Phat Boy drive off and slid into the sun-warmed leather seat next to Flash Boy.