Well it’s official; fact is stranger than fiction in Flirty world. My adventures this morning topped any story I could make up. As I am now a lady of leisure again, (having convinced myself and my parents that there is no point trying to get another job before Christmas) I took a relaxed approach to getting up today. All was going well until I went to leave the bedroom and discovered the door wouldn’t open. The knob just kept turning in my hand – and that’s not a euphuism.
Panic set in as I was on my own, my keys were in the living room and from my last kitchen experience I knew the door wouldn’t open no matter what I did. The problem was this time I had no hatch to escape from. Thankfully my mobile was in the room. A few panic calls later and things were not looking good; Dr McRide wasn’t answering his phone, no one had a spare set of keys and the letting agent was less than helpful:
“Hi, this is Flirty in Apt X. I’ve locked myself in the bedroom, do you have a spare set of keys?� me
“We normally don’t hold keys, can I put you on hold while I check. Don’t go anywhere – not that you can. (Roars of laughter followed by hold music) Definitely no keys you’ll have to ring a locksmith� estate agent.
I did what any women would in my situation and started trying on clothes, hoping that divine inspiration would happen mid outfit. Two hours later and my wardrobe was perfectly co-ordinated like a Whistles shop, but I was still trapped and starting to get a bit hungry. In some weird ‘we are connected by a higher force’ Dr. McRide rang. (More likely it was the 27 voice and text messages I had left for him). Once he stopped laughing he agreed to pop back and release me. I sat on the window ledge like Rapunzel waiting for her prince. Except this prince rode a very high tec mountain bike. I knocked and waved down from my bedroom window when I saw him coming. On the off chance he didn’t know where I lived. Sadly releasing me was to prove more challenging than simply turning the handle.
Apparently the lock was completely f*cked. I think that’s a technical term. After much talking through the door like star crossed lovers, Dr McRide decided he would have to break in. I stood back while he lashed an almighty kick at the door and it swung open. The drama of the situation had of course gone completely to my head and I was standing there, clutching my bosom with clasped hands like some 19th century damsel. Dr. McRide was looking particularly yum with his clothes and hair wet from the rain and his chest heaving with the exertion of breaking down the door.
Now if this was proper chick lit he would have grabbed me in a passionate embrace, collapsed on the bed and done very rude things to each other. Sadly this isn’t chick lit and we live in Ireland. Instead I asked did he want some tea. We spent the next 10 minutes discussing the merits of various pieces of door furniture and sorting out our “issues� from last week. Afterwards he jumped back on his bike and cycled off into the rain. My hero.
The good news is that my bedroom door will now always be open if Dr McRide ever decides to barge back in again – sigh………
Assuming you are very drunk, in a dark room and squinting - a lot. Email me on Irishflirtysomething at hotmail.com
November 28th, 2007 at 4:29 pm
Oh Flirty that is brilliant - so … was he drunk at the time, or did that rumour turn out to be incorrect?
November 28th, 2007 at 4:30 pm
You should of jumped him
November 28th, 2007 at 4:38 pm
“issues” from last week? c’mon, spill.
November 28th, 2007 at 4:56 pm
Considering that I live in an apartment with poor-to-nil phone reception, slightly dodgy door-handles and very heavy doors, and that my flatmates are often away on weekends and such, I find this post extremely worrying. Argh!
November 28th, 2007 at 5:36 pm
I might be starting to like him
November 28th, 2007 at 5:36 pm
Con - got I hope he wasn’t drunk, he was working.
Lorna - too sober to jump
Rosie - feel bad bitching when he was so good today
Robert - time to move….
November 28th, 2007 at 5:37 pm
Eolai - you are so fickle
November 28th, 2007 at 6:06 pm
You could of put it down to him being your hero and you thinkin you were going to die in that room, slight over exaggeration but confined spaces and all i’d be in a sweat, Mmmmm and he would of been wet and sweaty my mind is wanderin way too far
November 28th, 2007 at 6:29 pm
Be sure to save a draft of your *issues for when you do feel bitchy.
Enjoy your days of pre-Christmas freedom.
November 28th, 2007 at 6:57 pm
He was working? My God, I hope he didn’t leave someone in mid-operation and rapidly losing blood. And all to rescue a damsel in distress wrestling with an intransigent knob. What a chivalrous chap.
November 28th, 2007 at 10:48 pm
Everyone needs a Dr. McRide to bust in their bedroom door!
I just can’t seem to find mine
November 29th, 2007 at 5:48 am
Instead I asked did he want some tea.
Where would we all be without tea? Juliet Turner introduced a song once saying whiskey is for death and insanity, tea is for everything else. Sums up Ireland very nicely.
November 29th, 2007 at 10:06 am
Enjoy your free time - and spill the goss! We won’t tell anyone…
November 29th, 2007 at 10:46 am
Lorna - you are getting carried away, but I like the line of thought.
Red - as a women I never forget issues
Nick - i was a much more important case
alan - yet…
Primal - wise words
Caro - I know you’ll take it to the grave
November 29th, 2007 at 2:11 pm
Absolutely hilarious…..I had got the info second hand and sure enough, a great story it makes…..why is it these things always happen to you????
November 29th, 2007 at 10:09 pm
“his clothes and hair wet from the rain and his chest heaving with the exertion of breaking down the door.”
It’s a Mr. Darcy wet-shirt moment! You are flatmates with Dr. McRide-Darcy! The McRide-Darcys are a very good family. You simply must go to a ball now, misunderstand each other and then fall madly in love!
Is he awfully brooding? Oh for swoon!
November 30th, 2007 at 5:09 am
Oh locking oneself in a room, it brings back such sweet memories. I did exactly the same, except I locked myself in my friend’s bathroom. The door handle just kept spinning around. This may not have been so bad if
a)the family hadn’t left for the day
b)a cab was coming to pick me up in a quarter of an hour.
C)to take me to Heathrow.
C) to catch a plane to New Zealand.
D) All of the above.
Thankfully I did manage to escape, but only only after I’d found a pair of tweezers, trashed them and unscrewed the door knob. I rang my mate and said, ‘The good news is that I am going home today, the bad is that I’ve truly knackered your bathroom door handle.’
November 30th, 2007 at 5:10 am
You’ll notice I’m still learning the alphabet.
November 30th, 2007 at 7:37 am
“issues”?
Tell!
November 30th, 2007 at 10:11 am
ange - I wish I knew!
Sam - Mr D’arcy, double yum
Kate - would have lost all reason if that happened to me
Spin - feel guilty giving out about him now
November 30th, 2007 at 7:23 pm
The fact that it was a bike he was riding in the rain rather than, well you know, is what has me possibly reconsidering.
Your post reminded me of a 2-hour lock in of mine in a tiny jax in a highly unpleasant hotel in Turkey. You may have seen it in Midnight Express. Worn out hard plastic soles of cycling shoes and a tiled floor were not helpful. Neither was the absence of a window. It really needed a window.
December 2nd, 2007 at 2:39 am
Oh be still my beating heart ! That happened to me once and I was “rescued” by a fat builder from Monaghan. You are one lucky woman.
December 2nd, 2007 at 9:37 pm
ooooh - chick lit indeed. My bosom is heaving just thinking about such a handsome rescuer…
December 3rd, 2007 at 12:35 am
I once locked myself into a toilet when the key fell out of the lock, under the door and out the other side. There were people in the room but they were just too lazy to kick it back despite my warnings. So I gave it one big kick that knocked it out far enough to get out, then knocked it back together again so anybody could use it.
December 3rd, 2007 at 12:49 pm
lol. you made me chuckle on this hideous monday morning flirt, thank you! i got locked in the bathroom when i was 7. my very drunk uncle climbed in a got me out - not nearly as glamorous.