Boys, Bikes and Bad Timing

Travel always provides a great opportunity for a reset. And after my 4-week vacation in Kenya, I was ready for a change.

So, on returning to the UK, I felt brave. I’d had five proposals of marriage (no exaggeration, I’ve got game in Kenya) and felt my confidence had soared after being treated like a celeb in the town of Iten (probably on account of my blonde hair).

Feeling inspired by my newfound confidence, I was ready to improve my cycling skills and perhaps even widen my social circle. Therefore, I decided to check out the local clubs in the area. I looked at Skipton CC, Ilkley CC and, then I ventured a little further, looking at Otley CC. When I realised that Alberto (my legendary spin instructor) followed a few of the members on Strava, I hit follow on a couple of the cyclists to gain a fuller picture of their activities. Admittedly, one of the cyclists I followed was adorned like a Greek God: tall, muscley and athletic.

Follow. Thumb-up his recent ride. Done.

But then, he followed me back and followed me on Instagram too. Okay things were getting a little interesting. We started speaking over Instagram and he reached out to arrange a meet up: a walk and a meal afterwards.

Admittedly, there may have been some differences, like his age: he’s 26 and I’m 22. He also had a full-time job and owned a house, and I’m working on my life goals and living a nomadic life. But on the whole, we gelled, connected and seemed to have a lot in common.

On top of this, he had game. He called me ‘pretty’; he complemented my legs; he was brilliant at communicating and replying. Mr Big was a hit and I was ready to meet the man behind the messages on Sunday.

However, like many things in my life, if things seem too good to be true, they generally are.

On Friday, I received a message:’ I won’t be able to do Sunday. To be honest with you, I’m talking to this girl I’m pretty interested in and I want to see where it goes with her. I’d feel weird seeing someone else’.

Ohhhhh, okay!

I didn’t get to the date part. I didn’t even get the chance to put him off in-person, with my opinionated chat or competitive arrogance. The walk and the meal never materialised.

Then my mum chirped up, ‘Charlotte, you’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.’

But why do all the flipping frogs bugger off before I get a chance to kiss them?

The search continues….