LIZ JONES'S DIARY: In which I wish I hadn’t made the first move - YOU Magazine Fashion Beauty Celebrity Health Life Relationships Horoscopes Food Interiors Travel Sign in Welcome!Log into your account Forgot your password? Password recovery Recover your password Search Sign in Welcome! Log into your account Forgot your password? Get help Password recovery Recover your password A password will be e-mailed to you. YOU Magazine Fashion Beauty Celebrity Health Life Relationships Horoscopes Food Interiors Travel Home Life Liz Jones LIZ JONES’ S DIARY In which I wish I hadn t made the first move By You Magazine - May 10, 2020 I keep refreshing my inbox. Refresh, refresh, refresh. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Nothing from the Hunk, responding to the email I wrote last week, in which I asked after him and said I would love to meet up once lockdown is over and we can fly again. Oh, and that I happen to be in love with him. I almost forgot that bit. I think I must have had one glass of I Heart Champagne too many! Abbey Lossing at handsomefrank.com That was quite the most forward missive to a man I’ve ever written. But I don’t think being forward as a woman, even in this MeToo age, ever really works. I’ve tried it before, either been convoluted and devious, or come straight out with it, to disastrous results, viz… In the summer of 1983, I hosted a party just so I could invite David, who lived next door. I made Pimm’s and had croissants and fruit salad on offer for the early hours. I bought the new Malcolm McLaren 12-inch. David turned up all right, but swiftly left with my friend Wilma. She was wearing a vintage tea dress and no make-up. I joined a gym in Highbury Fields, at great expense, as I fancied the personal trainer: he looked like a young Stan Collymore (I did chat to the real Stan Collymore in a bar once when I was the editor of Marie Claire; another story). The personal trainer soon left, and I was unable to cancel my membership for a year. I fancied the man in the health food store on Old Street roundabout. I accumulated a crunchy peanut butter mountain before eventually plucking up the courage to call the shop and ask him to the cinema. His first response was promising, as he said, ‘When?’ I gave him my number, but he never called me. I took a shine to a chef at a restaurant, which meant I dragged my friend Robina to his establishment most lunch hours. I managed to invite him to a party in Shoreditch. He came along but didn’t speak to me. I hired a man I’d met at a record launch party as the music critic on my magazine. This ruse worked, and we actually went on a date to the cinema to see The Blair Witch Project. As I was then already deaf and blind – I’ve since had laser eye surgery and bought high-tech hearing aids – I had no clue what was happening in the frankly blurry, whispered narrative, so wasn’t scared at all. We went for dinner in the Organic Pub afterwards, I gave him a lift home, and he didn’t invite me in. When I later asked why not, he said, ‘You must be made of steel if that didn’t frighten the life out of you.’ We did go on to have sex on our second date but, unfortunately, I was forced to sack him as music critic for being too highbrow, which put the dampeners on our relationship slightly. While features editor of a daily tabloid, I hired my future husband to be ‘technology writer’, even though he couldn’t change a plug and indeed did not even own a screwdriver. Later, when we were married and I found out he was cheating, I made him do a feature whereby he had to fly from various airports across Europe to see how many times he was thrown in a cell because he’s Asian and had a beard. You see, I can give, but I can also take away. Now I have just sent that totally out-there email. And I have to confess here that, having been assigned Him, the Hunk, as my photographer for a story in Bali, I then totally requested Him for another story in Bolivia. An assignment he accepted, even though it was a huge distance from Sydney, the airline lost his camera equipment, and then he was placed in isolation with suspected yellow fever! This must mean something, surely? I’m feeling a bit annoyed, to be honest, as I had Botox and filler back in February, and if this lockdown goes on much longer it will all go to waste and my forehead will start to concertina. Botox only lasts a few months. I will have gone off, again. To contact Liz tweet #lizjonesgoddess or visit lizjonesgoddess.com RELATED ARTICLESMORE FROM AUTHOR Liz Jones In which I m turfed out on to the street Liz Jones In which I m torn between two men Liz Jones In which I have a birthday date DON' T MISS Fiona Bruce Sometimes I struggle not to cry November 14, 2021 17 beautiful 2021 diaries to help you to look forward to December 4, 2020 Why women leave men for women What’ s fuelling the rise of April 28, 2019 Hollywood veteran Laura Linney on plastic surgery friendship and her stellar July 3, 2017 You can shop the khaki jumpsuit from Holly Willoughby’ s new M& S July 17, 2019 The secrets and lies behind this happy family photo April 11, 2021 It’ s cocktail hour Olly Smith’ s cocktail recipes and Eleanor Maidment s canapé November 14, 2021 BBC One has revealed its Christmas TV schedule and there’ s lots December 2, 2020 YOU Beauty Box August Reviews August 1, 2017 Rome has been named the cheapest major city to visit in August 7, 2019 Popular CategoriesFood2704Life2496Fashion2240Beauty1738Celebrity1261Interiors684 Sign up for YOUMail Thanks for subscribing Please check your email to confirm (If you don't see the email, check the spam box) Fashion Beauty Celebrity Life Food Privacy & Cookies T&C Copyright 2022 - YOU Magazine. 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