Why I Don’t Like the Liebster Award. Please Don’t Hate Me.

Why I Don’t Like the Liebster Award. Please Don’t Hate Me..

Liebster Blog

I love this, and I so hear where she is coming from. Those dreaded chain letters that we all received as children, the memory of which still gives me the heeby-geebies today when recalling them. I remember them with such clarity. Not the content, just the ‘do it or you/your dog/your bestie/Mum will die if you don’t pass it on to the next ten friends’ thingy.

I too cringe at nominations and awards. It’s the whole ‘I am so not worthy’ thing going on. I always feel that if they look just that little bit closer they will realise what a big mistake they’ve made. Then I get embarrassed. It makes me smile just thinking about it.

Then I worry that they will take it back. But I don’t want to lose it. It’s mine! *snort*

So yes, I believe that there is someone else out there that is far more worthy than I. That I am not deserving, and yet at the same time I crave the acknowledgement. I glow with pride and get warm fuzzies when anyone tells me ‘well done’ for anything that I’ve done. I strive to do the best that I can, then burst with pride when it’s acknowledged, then feel unworthy all at the same time.

Who said we’re not complex creatures.

The Garage

It was a hot day. The traffic was thick, I’d forgotten that coming out at this time of day was a bad move. This road led to the city and was a main arterial route. Worse, school was out, so Mum’s were running amuck on the streets in their four by fours and people movers. It was chaos. Worse, I was low on fuel. The little light flashed it’s incessant message at me. Blink, blink, blink. Warning and I had better heed its advice. Small it may be, but the very idea of running out of fuel on this road at this time of day under a burning sun was enough to make me decide that I would get fuel asap. Thinking of what lay ahead of me, I knew that the next major intersection held two fuel depots. Both on the other side of the road, and each on a corner of the major intersection. Getting into one would mean crossing the oncoming traffic just before the lights, and although it was a reputable fuel supplier, you could only go in one way, fuel up in that direction and then leave. This proposed some difficulties for me getting back into the flow of traffic to head for home.
SIGH.
The other fuel depot was less reputable, but I could use the green arrow at the lights to turn into it. Fine, that would have to do. Making my way through the occasionally hazardous traffic, I finally made it to the intersection where said light finally turned green and I was able to zip into the driveway of the garage, with the jerk tailing me just missing the derierre of my wee car.
I pulled up at the first available pump, and after popping the fuel hood jumped out of the car, wallet in one hand, stuffing keys into my jeans pocket with the other, walked around the back of my car. It was then that I realised I wasn’t exactly dressed for the public eye. I had a pair of boot legged jeans on, a pair of my favourite purple thongs on my feet, and a mauve singlet with no bra on underneath, and no over-shirt.
So sue me, it was a hot day dammit, and I hadn’t planned on making any stops.
Looking at the pump I realised that there was nowhere to select the dollar amount of fuel I needed to buy. Having to stick to a budget was slowly becoming something that was a pain in my arse. Still, I couldn’t afford to fill up my tank like I was used to doing in the distant past. Looking at the pump once again, and recalling that I wasn’t using the best supplier of fuel, I choose the more expensive type of fuel for my car. Hoping as I did so, that it would be the equivalent quality of the cheaper fuel across the way.
Twenty dollars and two cents later, I put the pump back on the machine, effectively shutting it down.
Walking into the cool air of the garage I scanned the area for the register. Ah there it was. Over in the opposite corner to where I expected it. Circumnavigating the ice-cream freezers and not even tempted to put my hand in and reach for an ice cream I placed my money down on the counter and stated “Number six thanks.”
“Number six?” the boy behind the counter queried.
“Yes, number six thank you.”
“Are you sure it’s number six?”
“Yes. It’s number six.” I was starting to get seriously pissed.
“It can’t be number six.”
“It can and it is. I checked. Number six please.”
He queried my selection two more times before finally accepting my cash. Honestly, if he didn’t snap out of it… then again, if he so much as hinted at requesting five cents to cover the two cents over that I’d pumped into my car, he had another thing coming.
I may be old, but really I did know which pump I’d used.
Receipt finally in hand, I turned away and crashed fully into six foot seven inches of male. Backing up I apologised profusely and stepped around the man of a mountain. I heard an appreciative, “G’day.
My response? “Cheeers,” as I waltzed out the door.
Really, a person asks me if I’m having a good day and I walk off saying cheers? That bump must have scrambled my brains. Half way across the drive ways heading for my car I realised with no small amount of shock on my part, that the guy had been about to hit on me.
That never happens anymore.
Well let me put it this way, it happens so rarely that I don’t even recognise it when it does happen. Point in case.
Finally reaching my car I hope in, put my belt on (habit), and lean forward to put my keys in the ignition as my window comes down to let in the cool afternoon breeze that has finally sprung up.
As I sit back in my seat and I’m just about to move off, a large hand lands on the sill of the drivers side window, and a larger than life body squats down on the other side of the door.
It’s man mountain, and he’s now at eye level with me.
OMG. Now what?
“Hello again.”
“Umm.”
“Sorry, if I made you jump. It wasn’t my intention to startle you at all.”
The guy is squatting outside my window, wearing high vis clothing, hair in disarray, and yet this cultured, gentle smooth as silk voice oozes out of him and my heart just melted into a puddle.
WTH?
“Are you okay?”
“Umm.” Okay now where the hell are my brains? Geez louise.
“I just wondered if you were doing anything tomorrow night at all.”
That startled a “Are you kidding me?” response out of me.
A deep chuckle emanated from him.
OMG. I’m screwed.
“No I’m completely serious. So, are you? Busy I mean.”
The sunglasses that covered half his face wrapped around his head so securely, I was certain that if someone hit him across the back of the head, they would stay in place. That thought didn’t help me much, but like most thoughts that entered my head these days, it just appeared – and didn’t help the situation any.
“Look sweetie…”
“Sweetie? Oh this isn’t going to be good is it.” he said as he glanced away from me, the smile slowly melting from his face, for the first time since he’d taken up residence outside my car door I might add. Hmmm.
I couldn’t help myself. I grinned. Reaching up to the top of my head I grabbed my sunnies, and slid them down onto the bridge of my nose.
Ah, misguided security. Safe from nothing except uv rays, it was misguided indeed. But at a time like this? I’d take what I could get.
“See this?” I asked as I swung my left hand outside the drivers side window, and waved it around madly.
“Hmmm, yes. I do believe… yes, yes. It’s a hand?”
This time it was my turn to chuckle. Oh stop it, I told myself.
Waggling my ring finger only, I continued on regardless.
“It’s a ring.”
“Listen,” he said, “I don’t usually give jewellery before the first date. I really think you might be worth that sort of bestowment, it’s just not something I was prepared for. You know, if I’d known that I was going to bump into you today, well, I would have been prepared. Will you take a rain check?”
This made me grin. What can I say? I’m weak where gorgeous males, and jewelry come together in the same time zone.
Pulling my head out of the clouds, my thoughts took a swift right hand turn. Where did this guy get off? It looked like I was going to have to be blunt.
“Look mate. I’m engaged.”
“Ah, so that’s a no then?”
“Yes!” thinking to myself, he finally gets it.
“That’s great. What time can I pick you up then?”
Arghhhhhh. Thumping my head back against the headrest of my car seat, I groaned in frustration. This guy was doing my head in. I was about to sit up, put the car in gear and move off, when I found my hand, THAT HAND, engulfed in his, and it was the size of a bears paw. He held my hand with the tips of his fingers, he then ever so gently wrapped my wrist in his other hand.
I found my hand completely secure.
I felt safe.
I relaxed.
Then three things happened instantly.
A ping of intense feeling swept up my hand, and filled my entire body.
I lost my breath.
I tried, and failed to snatch my hand back.
“Feel this,” he said as he pulled my hand gently forward and placed it, palm flat, against the middle of his chest.
His heart raced under my hand. He spoke once again, softly, deeply.
“That’s what you are doing to me. It’s what you’ve been doing to me since I first saw you stepping around the back of your car, and up to the pump.”
Okay, stalker alert.
The hot flush that had swept through my body immediately dissipated. Where the hell did I think I was for heavens sake? In the middle of a happy ever after story book. Good grief, this was life for goodness sakes. Stuff like that doesn’t happen in real life. Only I would land a stalker at a garage dressed like this.
Pulling my hand away from him, I shook my head. Picking his hand up from where it now rested on the door sill, and dropped it outside my car.
“Bye mate.” was all I said as I put it into gear and moved the car off. I was shaking like a leaf. Pushing all thoughts of my close encounter of the third kind out of my head, I moved my car to the other side of the garage. I needed to gather my wits, and I needed to check the air in my tyres. There’s no way he would know that I’d not left, as the garage itself sat in the middle of where I’d been, and where I was now. As far as he was concerned, I’d driven straight out of the garage and back onto the main drag.
Shaking my head at the crazy world I now lived in, I collected the the air hose and moved to the front of my car. Bending over I took off the cap and applied the nozzle, checking off the weight shown on the gauge currently in the tyre before applying anymore pressure. Yep, needed air. Plunging my thumb down, listening to the hiss of air as it was slowly being pushed into my tyre, my thoughts once again turned to the man that had just asked me out on a date. I shook my head in disbelief. A man I didn’t know from Adam, and who had tried to pick me up in a garage of all places.
Really? He must have been desperate. I started to chuckle, when something large landed with some force on my arse, and propelled me up and around where I immediately took up a fighting stance.
What the hell was that.
Ah shit.
‘That’ was a large hand being applied to my rear, by a large man.
“Hey!” (Yet more intelligence being shown on my part.) “What part of ‘No’ don’t you get Sasquatch?”
“Sasquatch? You know that’s not a very nice thing to say to a guy.”
“Are you for real?”
“Look, I just want to ask you out on a date. Where’s the harm?”
This being said all while he was slowly encroaching on my space. My back hit the front end of my car.
“You are not old.” He wrapped his hands around my waist.
“You are not fat.” He leaned into me, forcing me to either meet him chest to chest, or lean back.
I leant back.
“You are not married yet!”
He was serious. Husky his voice maybe at the moment, but there was deadly intent there. Read my message, it said, loud and clear.
My back met with the hood of my car, just as his chest met with mine.
Damn.
His hands had slowly made their way up my sides, touching nothing and yet touching everything in their wake. Raising my hands above my head, he kept them wrapped up in one oversized paw, with his other running back down my arm, to my face, where, holding it gently, he placed the most chaste of kisses on my mouth.
Damn. It. All. Now, I wanted more.
What could I say, it had been a dry spell. A very long, very dry spell.
Lifting his face away from mine, he looked me directly the eye. That’s when I saw his eyes for the first time. He had green eyes. Deep sea green.
I could get lost in those eyes.
I did get lost in those eyes.
Thank goodness I was draped over the hood of my car, as I’m fairly certain that my legs would not have held me up right about then. They’d gone all to goo.
“Now,” he said as he pulled me up, and then straight back into his arms. “I won’t,” he kissed the tip of my nose, “take no,” he kissed above one eye, “for,” he then kissed above the other, “an answer.” With that, he kissed me again. Still chaste, but longer, trailing it across my jaw, back up to my lips where he proceeded to nibble my bottom lip.
His lips were soft, he was gentle in his kissing of me, and I was completely lost.
With one arm wrapped around my lower back, and the other cupping my cheek he said, “here’s my card.”
His hand slid into the back pocket of my jeans.
OMG.
Call me tomorrow and let me know where you’ll be. I don’t care if it’s at a friends, a bar, the beach, or with people in tow, just tell me you’ll meet me?”
All this talk interspersed with his kisses.
If I moaned, I didn’t know it. I’m sure if I reflect on it later there will be a lot of moaning.
“Tell me you’ll meet me, please?” All in a guttural voice.
OMG
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I’ll meet you.”
“Good girl.” Hugging me to him, he gave me one final chaste kiss on the lips, and turned and hopped on his bike. Pulled his lid on, and with a wave, roared onto the road and was lost in the traffic in a heart beat.
I got back into my car, started it up, and headed home.
Brain?
Nowhere to be found.
****