#truly want the job but there's no way i can spend $3500 for a last minute plane ticket

[fiona-fififi]

...

[ihearthes]

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Unnamed OFC Rating: Light Smut Word Count: 3500 Inspired by: @wanderlustwaving and “The Lady or the Tiger” by Frank Stockton

His eyes dart around the bar, seeking her. She has to be here. It’s tradition. Their tradition. January 1st. Every year. Sunset. Anguilla. The Four Seasons. 

Harry had booked this table nearest the bay a full year ago, confirming it in mid-June and again in early December. Sitting silently, his eyes shaded behind his sunnies, he watches the giant ball of fire as it descends into the water. Less of a sizzle than one would expect. Each sip of his Casamigos Blanco over ice is perfect. The sky lights up with oranges, reds, and yellows that are reflected on the clouds, resembling the Monet painting San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk which he had viewed in Cardiff. A second version hangs in Tokyo at Bridgestone Museum, and he had been lucky enough to see it once. 

The longer he watches its descent, the more he realises that this sunset is different from the paintings he’d seen. His fingers itch for watercolours or acrylics even though he knows his amateurish strokes would never capture the beauty. Last year, the sunset had been underwhelming, the clouds obscuring rather than reflecting the colours. Their first year, he had been unable to believe what he was seeing. It had been stunning with the reach of the palette across the sky, like tendrils of smoke straining to hug the entire planet. Now he captures his journal from the extra chair, opening it’s leather binding to a blank page. Flipping back to the beginning of his journal, he finds a sketch of her leaning on the railing -- drawn from memory years after their first meeting. His mind casts backwards to the non-date that had launched this annual trip. 

“Wow.” The voice belongs to a woman who steps to the railing next to him, leaning forward and twisting her head to take in the full sunset. Glancing at her, he does a double take as he recognizes her. Holy shit. She’s even more stunning in person. 

“Oh, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Harry’s calm voice is the opposite of his turbulent emotional state. 

“Seriously? It’s much closer to a 9.2.”

“You’ve lost your mind. It’s worthwhile, but not a 9.2,” he scoffs, shifting his body slightly closer to hers. He turns toward her, planting a single forearm on the railing as he observes her in her floral sarong that matches her bikini top. Her hair is bundled lazily on top of her head, and her tanned feet are encased in strappy sandals. Surreptitiously, he takes in her curves while she’s examining the sunset. 

Twisting her head quickly, she catches his eyes on her ass. Rather than blushing, he smiles at her instead, well aware that the dimple is doing it’s job appropriately. The live steel drum band starts a new song, and she boldly turns to him, holding out her hand. “Dance?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Grasping her fingers, Harry wraps one arm around her waist, stepping into her and leading them in time with the music. When he twirls her rather expertly, she laughs, planting a hand on his chest and gazing up at him with what appears to be a phony bashfulness. 

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she laughs. 

“Clearly you’ve never seen me live on stage,” Harry smirks. 

She clucks her tongue, “Oh, but I have. I said what I said, Styles.”

Looking away from her, he can’t help the smile that breaks loose. Damn, she’s got moxie. And it’s intriguing and beguiling. 

“You’re here alone?” he wonders, his eyes roaming the outdoor space. It’s filled with strangers -- to him anyway. 

“Tonight only. Yes.” She twirls him, and he grins at the move. 

“Me too.” The soft words are spoken into her ear as he’s drawn her closer. “I like to spend the first night of the year reflecting on the previous year.”

“Isn’t that what New Year’s Eve is for?” she wonders, her voice breathy. 

“Nah. That’s for drinking and celebrating with friends. Today is for reflection -- looking backwards and forwards simultaneously.”

“Planning to conquer the world this year, Mr. Styles?” 

“Indeed.” Arching an eyebrow, he mimics a cartoon villain, drawing his pinky to his mouth. 

She slaps at his chest, and he desperately wants to kiss her in that moment. After all, they are flirting, aren’t they? 

“Are you going to offer me dinner?” she asks boldly. “And take me to your room afterwards?”

Woah. Definitely gutsy. “Depends,” he whispers as he spins them both around once more while the band winds down. 

“On what?” 

“On what kind of sushi you prefer.”

“Ah!” There’s a gleam in her eye that he can’t resist. She’s playful and not shy about being the seductress. Harry finds the combination heady. Waving her hand in dismissal as she turns towards his table, “I usually try whatever the newest offering is -- especially if it’s fresh from those waters.” Fingers waggle in the direction of the bay, and he wants to grasp them out of the air and wrap them protectively in his own hand. 

Instead, he applauds the band before following behind her. At the table, she drags her chair from the opposite side of the small round table until she’s sat beside him. With his questioning glance, she again gestures towards the bay. “I’m not going to miss that sunset just so I can stare at your pretty face.” 

Rather than sketching the sunset, he attempts to paint the current sight with words. Everything he writes seems trite: clementines, flames, majestic, radiant, blush, hearth.

Where is she? Yes, it had been a year since they had spoken, but surely she would have sent a message if she weren’t planning to join him? Why hadn’t they exchanged numbers? Followed each other on Instagram? 

But he knows why. The mystery. The transcendental experience. The enchantment of meeting once a year, incognito, in this particular and magnificent place. No knowledge of each other outside of this 24 hours that belongs to them alone. 

Which is ridiculous. Because he certainly knows who she is and follows her career. And he would be astonished if she didn’t also pay attention to his. A few times this last year they had coincidentally been in the same city simultaneously, and he had seriously debated trying to locate her. Contact her manager maybe. Or put out feelers that would certainly have stretched to her ears like an old-fashioned game of Chinese Whispers (which of course isn’t what he should call the game now; it’s racist). The message, though, would have been garbled but sufficient for them to meet up. 

Every time, he refrained. Their unspoken commitment was to this place and this one day a year. Now he regrets not making contact. Had she decided that one day a year wasn’t worth the effort? Was she even now canoodling with someone else? There hadn’t been rumours of any recent love affairs on her end, and he snatches his phone anxiously to search her name just in case she connected with someone during the last week.

Picking up his now-empty glass of tequila as he scrolls through his phone, Harry draws an ice cube into his mouth, swirling it on his tongue to relish every tiny bit of the liquor there. The burn has vanished as it’s taken him nearly an hour to drink one tequila. No record of any new beaus. Maybe he should follow her now on social media? DM her? What would he do if she didn’t show? How much longer should he wait? 

“Oh yum! This roll is even better than last year’s.” She proclaims as she rushes to grasp the last bite of the Ceviche Roll. 

“Hey! That was mine!” Harry protests, laughing as she stuffs the full piece in her mouth. 

“Order more,” she mumbles around the rice, fish, and seaweed flavored with citrus and cilantro. 

“Nah, I’ve got a different appetite now,” he murmurs, watching her lips as she chews the sushi. 

Freezing, her eyes rush to his, and she slowly finishes the sushi she’s been eating, swallowing slowly. He wishes that she would move her chair to his side of the table like she had the previous year. This time, they’re seated on opposite sides of the table, but at an angle where both can watch the setting sun. 

“What?” Her look has made him nervous. “You’re not going to tell me you’re seeing someone, are you?” 

Her hair twirls as she shakes her head. “No. Broke up with him last week in anticipation of this.”

Having sipped his tequila, Harry chokes at her words. Coughing, he grasps the table with both hands. Holy fuck. She didn’t really expect him to --

“Kidding!” Her giggle lights up her eyes, bringing a light blush to her face. She’s truly stunning. Maybe even more than last year. 

When her foot, sans sandal, caresses his calf under the table, he knows that the night is going to be filled with sex. Fun, hot, brilliant sex that will last most of the night. Hmm...perhaps it would be best to fortify himself for their escapades. Raising his hand, he flags down the server. 

“Sir?”

“Another Ceviche Roll, por favor. Plus a bottle of Casamigos.” He pauses as her foot makes its way further up his leg, and he wonders if she’s going to slide under the table completely. “Send it to my room, please.” Voice catching as her toes make contact with his crotch, he demands, “Put it all on my tab please. I’ll settle up later.” 

With a nod of agreement, the server disappears. Quickly Harry rises, adjusting his slacks as he glances around the room. 

“Let’s go,” his voice rumbles. 

“But H -- the sunset,” she whines. 

“My room has the same view,” he insists, holding out his hand which she grasps. Gracefully sliding her foot back into her sandal, she rises and glides behind him towards the elevator. 

His stomach rumbles at the thought of eating, and he debates ordering food. The sushi at the sunset lounge is always fresh. In the past, though, they’ve enjoyed the dishes together, trying new ones every year. Dejected, he places his glass harshly on the table, his disappointment at her absence radiating across his psyche like the colours of the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a solid 8.5,” her voice sounds from over his shoulder, and he twists in surprise. Like the sunset beckons the stars, she summons happiness to his soul. He scrambles to rise, kissing her on both cheeks, his lips lingering each time. Not too long, though, in case others are watching and photographing. Which he always assumes these days. Fans. Paps. No privacy exists anywhere. 

“Hi,” he whispers, grateful for her presence, but unable to say the words that would tell her how worried he’s been. That might reveal too much of his emotions. And his heart. 

Fuck. When had his heart gotten involved? And why hadn’t he realised before this particular moment? 

“You agree?” she smiles, gesturing to the sunset. 

“I would say it’s a 9 or maybe even a 9.2,” Harry smiles, his dimple making an appearance to rival the sunset in front of them. 

“You finished your drink,” she nods at his empty glass. 

“I started early.” It’s a lame excuse, and he knows it. 

His annual partner tilts her head in his direction. “Or maybe I’m late?”

Not knowing how to respond, Harry waits, his fingers playing with the coaster underneath his drink, spinning it around, the glass slowly rotating with the cardboard circle with the restaurant’s name on it. 

“I debated,” she whispers, “unsure if I should…”

The server appears, a smile on his face. His white trousers and white shirt are complemented by a blue scarf at his neck, his accent strong. 

“What can I get you?”

Harry notices the man’s gaze on his companion’s breasts which draws his own attention to the bosom swelling around the buttons of her frock, which he just now notices has sunflowers across the lower half of the skirt. Was that on purpose? 

When she exchanges a knowing glance with Harry and smoothes the fabric over her legs, it becomes clear that she knows exactly what she was doing by choosing this dress.

He shifts in his seat. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she announces. 

Harry reminds the server, “Two Casamigos on the rocks please. And your newest sushi roll with light brown rice please. Thanks.”

Nodding, his date agrees to the order, and he’s relieved that at least the basics haven’t changed in the last year. 

“You were saying?” he prompts as the steward moves away from them. 

“Oh,” she blushes, her cheeks tinging slightly pink. “I just...wasn’t sure…” She swallows, her head down before she makes eye contact with him, “that this was a good idea.”

Taken aback, Harry settles his bum more deeply in his chair, feeling blindsided by the comment, wishing he had his tequila to soothe him in this moment. “I see,” he mumbles. 

“Harry --” she begins, and he waves a hand in her direction. 

“It’s just casual,” he unceremoniously argues, “right?” But his heart clutches at the phrasing. 

Her eyes drop to her lap where her hands are entwined. “Yes. I guess.” Her whisper makes him sweat. Fuck. Had she decided this was it? The last time? “It’s a pretty sunset,” she adds.

“Absolutely,” he concurs, anxious at what else she might say. Silence descends on the table much faster than the stars appear in the sky above them. Should he be vulnerable? Tell her how he feels? What he’s thinking? 

This year’s live steel drum band begins a new song, and without pause, she rises, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Grateful for the reprieve, he joins her in their corner of the outdoor restaurant, placing one hand on her waist as she rests her head on his chest. Together, they sway, and his mind wanders.

“I need another lime!” she shrieks gleefully, holding the bottle of tequila in her hand. Harry shakes his head from his position flat on the bed. They are going to need clean sheets before they sleep tonight. Maybe they will go to her room for actual sleep? 

What the fuck is he thinking? As if they had actually slept during their rendezvous in the previous two years. 

“Here. Hold this,” she laughs, thrusting a lime towards Harry to place in his mouth, pulp out. 

“Mhm. Me next,” he mumbles just before his teeth wrap around the green rind.

“You bet,” she giggles. Settling herself on the bed as she straddles him, her soft parts landing on his cock encased in its bright green briefs. She slides down his legs and leans forward, holding the bottle of tequila out to the side. “Mmmmm.” Licking a stripe up from the base of his underpants to his navel, she sprinkles salt there before tilting the bottle of Casamigos and allowing a shot of tequila to land in his taut navel. He’d worked hard on his abs the last couple of months, knowing that he would be lying here with her. They’ve got definition that most blokes only dream of. 

Quickly, her tongue captures the salt before she sucks the tequila from his belly and shifts forward to suck the lime that’s in his mouth. Fuck. If he hadn’t been hard before they started this game, he’s certainly got a hammer between his legs now. 

As he releases the lime for her, she grips it in her teeth, leaning backwards in her bra and panties, her core now on his chest, and he can’t resist reaching out with a single finger and tracing a pattern over the treasure he knows is underneath. 

“You waxed for me this year,” he comments. 

“No,” she protests, “I waxed for me this year. You give great oral, and I wanted nothing to get in the way. It’s been far too long since my pussy has been properly eaten.” 

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrow raises, as he knows a couple of people who she dated during the previous year. 

“Yep. I would say,” she smiles, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss, her lips hovering just above his, “about exactly a year.”

“Hey…” he begins as they finish their silent dance just as their drinks arrive along with the plate of sushi, but he’s interrupted. 

“Here are your drinks. Our newest sushi roll is the Hot Lover,” which makes Harry cringe and shift again in his seat. “It’s spicy tuna, shrimp tempura, and avocado wrapped in soybean paper.” 

As he places the food in front of them, Harry smiles sadly and nods as the gentleman fades away into the restaurant, like the sunset has drifted into the ocean. 

“You were going to say something?” she asks, and he loses all of his courage. 

Shaking his head, he grasps a piece of the sushi roll between his fingers, sliding it onto his tongue. 

“Not bad,” he comments as he chews, trying to tuck the food in his cheek so he’s not rude. 

“It’s really not got a lot of flavour,” she grins as she mimics his eating habit. “Kind of boring.”

Did she mean their relationship? Was this one of those double-entendres? Swallowing the fish and rice concoction, he sips his tequila as the sushi sticks in his throat. For some reason, he wants to cry. It makes no sense, but the tears come unbidden to his eyes. Fuck. Looking away, he sips more of his drink as he watches the remnants of the sunset fade away, blinking furiously. 

“I wanted to call you when we were both in New York this year,” he comments softly. 

Her fingers pause halfway to her mouth, the soybean-paper-wrapped piece of sushi hovering near her lips. Harry watches as she debates how to respond to his comment, finally placing the fish on her tongue and chewing slowly. Unable to draw his eyes from her mouth, he unapologetically watches as she savors the restaurant’s latest speciality. Eyes closed, she moans. Her hands clutch the table on either side of her, and Harry feels his mouth go dry. 

Once she devours the food, she sips her tequila on the rocks, and he can visualize her tongue swirling the liquid around as she either tries to clear the flavour of the fish or fully taste the liquor. After all, her tongue has done that same move to his most favored body part. When she finishes, she makes eye contact with him, her hands resting on either side of her plate, fingers curled. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her fingers flat without breaking eye contact. Fuck. He’s sweating. 

“Truth be told, Harry -- I desperately wanted to call you when we were both in Edinburgh that time.”

“Why didn’t you?” His words are faster than his brain, and he immediately wishes he could draw back the question. 

“You know why,” she replies, and he nods because he does indeed know all of the reasons. “The sunset --” Her attention is drawn to the colours in the sky, “is lovely, don’t you think?”

“Honestly,” he admits, “I would say this is the best one of all of the times we’ve sat here together.” The words make him cringe. He wants to keep things light, but something about the moment prevents fluff. It feels momentous. Overwhelming. 

He watches as her eyes stray from his to the sky before they tear up and she nods in agreement. “Yes, Harry. I would say this is the most breathtaking of the sunsets we’ve seen.”

Did that mean that this would be the last one? Neither of them is getting younger. Sooner or later, one of them will meet “the one”. And then where will the other be? Stuck on an island with a sunset alone? Fuck. He doesn’t want to be that person. But he truly doesn’t want that for her either. 

“It’s a sensational sunset,” Harry pleads, his eyes not leaving her face, not straying to the glorious colours, not denying that they have some chemistry together. Why hadn’t he made a play for her before now? Was a hookup enough? Would he be happy if this is the last one? 

“Harry,” she sighs, sipping her drink again. “I wonder ---” 

The band starts a new song, and he shakes off the sound, willing her to continue. A group at the table behind them sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while another table nearby bursts into laughter and somewhere a server drops a tray of glasses, the shattering drawing applause from a few assholes close to the debacle. Harry ignores all of it. 

“Yes? Go on,” he encourages. 

“Maybe…” she bites her lip, looking away from him towards the sunset. 

“Yes?” His throat is dry, but he doesn’t reach for his tequila or his glass of ice water. Instead, his gaze remains riveted on her. 

“Do you think that perhaps we could…” 

His breath catches in his throat. What would she say? Would she ask for some random sex act? Cancel their relationship permanently? Or possibly -- miraculously -- suggest that they celebrate more sunsets together instead of just once a year. He holds his breath, waiting impatiently. 

“I mean, it would probably be best if we...” 

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers.  I appreciate the likes, but reblogs help others find the story and, quite frankly, encourage me to continue publishing here. 

[artificialqueens]

New Man Part 3 // Rolling in the Deep (Biadore) - Fucking Awful.

A/N: Back with Part 3 of the New Man saga! Another 3500 words of Biadore angst that I swear is going to get happy in a chapter or so. I think there will be 5 chapters, maybe a 6th. Few things:

First, funny story: “Fucking Awful” was actually supposed to be the name of Chapter 2, but because I’m a dumbass and don’t understand the naming conventions it ended up as my author name. AND I AM SO HAPPY ABOUT IT because you know what, I am fucking awful.

Second: This is back in Danny’s POV. I like switching back and forth, but I feel I get Danny (or the version of him that lives in my trash brain) a little better. There are few train of thought moments, designated by italics. 

Third: Back to song inspiration, this time from a different British redhead – the goddess Adele, and “Rolling in the Deep.“ (Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYEDA3JcQqw) No one is singing, its just a soundtrack to what happens here. Lyrics are in italics AND indented. 

Fourth: Let me know if these are too long and wordy. It’s something I get critiqued on professionally, so I’m keen to reel in unnecessary words in my creative/for fun writing.

Alright that’s it, hope you enjoy this! XOXO Fucking Awful

 “Oh shut UP!” Danny yelled at no one in particular, grasping blindly for his phone to shut off the alarm. “Fuck! Shit! Balls!” He finally managed to quiet the Marimba. 10:12am. An hour and 33 minutes until Johnny would be there to pick him up. Just enough time for a run – Danny was into fitness now – and a shower before brunch with his friends and…oh God.

Danny remembered he had to see Roy today, and out came a full body groan. He had spent the last 2 weeks telling his crew how excited he was for them to meet Roy – his Willow and his best friend, not just that guy from TV. But now everything was so utterly fucked, and after last night he could barely look at Roy let alone fawn over him at a bottomless brunch. Dragging himself out of bed and into workout clothes, Danny mentally prepared for what was coming.

Roy is cheating on his boyfriend. Roy is trying to cheat on his boyfriend with you. You basically told him to fuck off and that you don’t want to know him anymore. Now you are going to spend the whole day with him. Party.

He was now fully awake, partially from the blast of cold Seattle air but mostly from seething anger. What in the fuck did Roy think he was doing? The Haylock he knew wasn’t a cheater, he wasn’t even into open relationships. Moreover, he knew infidelity was the ultimate sore spot for Danny.

They’d talked about this a million times, and Danny had probably cried about it a million more. Adore’s free love persona had made a lot of guys think they could take advantage of Danny, both cheating on him and using him as an instrument of their own cheating. Every time it crushed Danny, made him feel worthless. A committed relationship is a committed relationship, and stepping out on a partner is the ultimate sign of betrayal and disrespect. Fuck that guy (Kyle? Tyler? Who cares.) that Roy was dating, but he still didn’t deserve to be cheated on.

And Danny didn’t deserve to be treated like a whore. That Roy thought Danny would be ok with being the Other Man was what hurt and angered him the most. Danny could feel his heart racing as he stretched. He had to calm down and play this afternoon all flazeda, so his friends wouldn’t ask questions. He knew they saw Roy making out with the stranger, something they were sure to ask about, but there’s no way they saw the 7 seconds in Heaven outside. If Danny could just act normally, he could help Roy deflect uncomfortable quest –

“Oh fuck THAT!” Again, to no one in particular. He knew what he was listening to for the next five miles, on a loop…

There’s a fire starting in my heart Reaching a fever pitch, and it’s bringing me out the dark

—

An hour and a half later, Danny was showered and getting ready – still blasting “Rolling in the Deep” on repeat.

Finally I can see you crystal clear Go ‘head and sell me out, and I’ll lay your shit bare

The “chill” plan was no more. Some combination of Adele and adrenaline transformed hurt and disappointed Danny into a pissed off, vengeful queen. He was rocking an all-black look to brunch – hair tied back under a beanie, long sweater and t-shirt, jeans and Docs – but he painted on some red eye shadow for a little extra fire.

In the years he had known Roy, Danny had never been really and truly mad at him. Annoyed or frustrated, sure, but never angry. So this full-body heartburn of rage that was coursing through his veins and shooting out his fingertips was strange to say the lest.  

See how I leave with every piece of you Don’t under estimate the things that I will do

“If you’re going to listen to music about a woman scorned, shouldn’t you at least play Lemonade?” Johnny let himself into the apartment, sneaking past Danny who was too wrapped up in belting along with the track.

“Beyoncé may be the queen, but Adele is still good shit.” Danny didn’t even glance up, finishing the smoky rust around his lids. “Plus this track fucking goes.” He turned up the stereo louder with one hand, swiping on mascara with the other.

Johnny reached over to stop the music. “Speaking of going, we have to. Jinkx is picking up Roy” – Danny flinched imperceptibly - “and everyone else is already there. If we don’t leave now we’re gonna be…Oh, I’m sorry. Is heroin chic a daytime look now?” Johnny raised an eyebrow.

Danny smirked and chucked his mascara at his cousin. “Fuck all the way off, let’s go.”

—

Baby I have no story to be told But I’ve heard one on you and I’m gonna make your head burn

Much to Johnny’s chagrin, the Adele fest continued in the car. The full 20-minute drive was spent listening to the thumping kick-drum and haunting chorus, Danny swatting his hand away anytime he tried to switch the music.

“Dude, c’mon. This is the eighth time; can we please listen to literally anything else?”

“No. I need to feel…empowered.” Danny didn’t want to elaborate.

“Empowered to do what? Look, I know some weird stuff happened last night – great job making it awkward, by the way, don’t think we didn’t all notice – but can we please not make a scene today? I have people to impress.”

Danny knew that Johnny was trying to date one of his new friends, and he was fully in support of his cousin getting it in. “It wasn’t me who – I didn’t – ok.” Instead of turning it off, Danny reached over and cranked the music louder.

Think of me in the depths of your despair Make a home down there, ‘cause mine sure won’t be shared

If he wasn’t going to say anything to Roy, at least he could feel the revenge fantasy for the rest of the drive.

–

The table of 15 was taking up the back patio of a little hipster spot in Capitol Hill. Johnny had almost immediately broken off to make romantical moves, so Danny settled into the open seat opposite Roy and Jinkx.

“Hey Danny! Doesn’t someone look nice today!” Jinkx had a smile plastered on his face, while Roy sat next to him looking more than a little sullen.

Danny reminded himself to keep it together, for Johnny’s sake. “Thanks! Felt pretty chill when I woke up this morning, but it wouldn’t be me without something a little ratchet.” Good, normal conversation.

“Well jeez, way to assume he was talking about you queen.” The words flew out of Roy’s mouth so fast, he almost looked like he was surprised he said them out loud. Danny reacted sharply, brow furrowed and lip curled as he shook his head ever so slightly.

“I was, of course I was!” Danny heard a muffled THUD under the table, and saw Roy flinch. “I love it. Seattle looks good on ya, kid. Doesn’t it, Roy?” Danny thought it was strange that Jinkx was speaking to Roy like he was scolding a toddler.

“Of course, I’m kidding.” More strangeness, Roy sounded almost sheepish. “You look great. You always look great.”

We could’ve had it all Rolling in the Deep

As angry as he was, Danny couldn’t help smile at the complement. How did Roy continue to have this effect on him?

You held my heart inside your hand And you played it to the beat

“Yeah well, adopting the finer points of your clown makeup has its perks. Color can be a good thing.” Roy smiled a bit at that, melting Danny like ice in the desert.

What the fuck are you doing? Remember how you feel!

Danny snapped out of it. “I’m fucking starving, what are you guys getting? Jesus, what food could we even fit here? There’s no space.” He made a show of feeling cramped, and hollered across the table. “Katie, can we try to –“

“Well hey there bitches, room for one more?”

Danny whipped around, as if he needed to see who it was to know the voice. Entrance sisters are forever, after all.

“Not for you, you sneaky little shit! You’re back early!” He jumped out of his seat to hug DeLa, who wasn’t supposed to be back from Australia for another three days. God, Danny was happy to see Ben.

“Yeah well, for a penal colony the Land Down Under is surprisingly low on eligible dick. I think I’ve made my way through the entirety of New South Wales at this point.” DeLa waved to the rest of the table before making his way over to Jinkx and Roy.

“Did you borrow my sailboat to get back here, you twat? Come ‘ere.” Roy stood up to hug the queen, too. Danny was surprised how happy Roy was to see Dela, they were friends but he didn’t know they were that close.

“No grandma, we have planes now. I left the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria safely in your boat house,” Ben quipped back as he went to hug Jinkx.

“Not bad, fruit fly. Not bad.” Roy sat down and Dela rounded the table back to Danny, who had made space for him.

“So, catch me up. How’s it going?” For half a second, Danny swore he saw Ben look meaningfully at Roy and then Jinkx. “Isn’t this just a great little reunion –” THUD. There was that muffled sound again, but this time it was Ben flinching.

“Sorry guys, I know it’s cramped and we keep hitting each other.” Danny apologized.

“It’s fine Danny, really. Everyone just needs to be a little more careful.” Jinkx smiled tightly. Now the pointed looks were coming from him, Danny was sure he saw it.

What’s going on? Why are they being weird?

Oh well, nothing a few Bloody Marias won’t fix.

—

An hour later the whole table was on the spectrum of tipsy to trashed, with the notable exception of the stone cold sober Roy. Danny’s sense of weirdness was replaced with the warm buzz of micheladas, tequila and good friends. There’s a reason the Lord blessed us with bottomless brunches on the Sabbath. Listening to the laughter and seeing the connection between friends new and old, Danny started to think maybe he could be chill.

Their food plates had barely hit the table when that image shattered, again. Poor Dela, he knows not what he does.

One of Danny’s new girlfriends, Sam, was telling him and Ben about her upcoming couple’s vacation. “So yeah, 5 days in Cabo to celebrate our anniversary, or month-iversary I guess. 5 days alone – I think I love that woman, but pray for me.” Sam took a drink.

“Damn, Sam. I didn’t realize you and Charlotte had been together for two months already. That’s rad.” Danny liked Sam a lot, and was glad to see her happy.

“Two months, that’s a big one.” Ben paused for a beat before winding around to face Roy and Jinkx, who were shouting across the table at Johnny and his new ‘friend.’

“That’s about the time you figure out if a relationship is going to work,” Ben continued. Another pause, and there was that damn pointed look at Roy again. Jesus, was he drunk already?

“Speaking of which – Roy, you’ve been with Sky for about 2 months now. How’s that going?”

Ben shouted the question loud enough to disrupt Roy’s conversation, which had the unfortunate effect of getting the whole table’s attention. The whole table who had been at the bar last night and witnessed Roy’s and Danny’s little display. Silence washed over them like goddamn Hurricane Katrina, leaving Dela very clearly confused if only for a second.

Danny immediately saw red. It wasn’t just the eye shadow creeping into his corneas, or the deep scarlet brunch cocktails – he was pissed. “Yeah Roy, how is Sky?” Danny asked, nearly shouting. He could feel the anger building.

You’re gonna wish you Never had met me

“Why didn’t you bring him with you? Didn’t think he would have fun?” The power of angry Adele was rising in his chest.

Tears are gonna fall Rollin’ in the deep

“I mean, what about this trip wouldn’t be fun for him? Jinkx has never met him. Dela hasn’t met him. In fact, neither have I. Wouldn’t he want to meet your sisters? Your best friend? Why wouldn’t he want to meet me, Roy?”

Johnny interjected. “I’m sure he was busy. Danny why don’t you switch over to water?” God bless him, like any good cousin was trying to stop the train of destruction. Danny was too far down this hill to pull back.

“Nah, I’m good man. Tell me, why didn’t he come here?” He focused all his attention, staring at Roy with enough intensity to clear his blurring vision while burning a hole in eyes of the man looking back at him. 

Now it was Jinkx’s turn to try. “Danny, drop it. You’re yelling.”

“No I’m not. And you’re not my mom, Jinkx. I just want an answer to my question.” Danny never took his eyes off Roy, who’s body seemed to wilt while his eyes stayed locked.

“I didn’t mean to cause a problem guys, I –“ Dela looked totally panicked.

Fire. Heart. Fever. Scars. Breathless. Tears.

The combination of hurt, alcohol and electricity clashed like lightning, and Danny couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Is it because you came here to cheat on him, Roy? You told him you were coming to visit your friends, but really you just came here to fuck some other guys and hope he wouldn’t find out?”

If he wasn’t yelling before, Danny sure was now. 

“You think that’s who I am, that I don’t care about other people’s feelings and that I’ll help you hurt them? You think I would be a part of that, that after all these years of pining for you I’d be so goddamn happy for your scraps of attention that I’d do it? That I’d let you jam your tongue down my throat in back alleys and fuck me in secret like your side piece?”

Well, so much for keeping that kiss a secret, Danny thought as he caught his breath. Might as well bring it home.

“You’re a shitty person, Roy. You’re a bad, mean, hateful person. You don’t care if you hurt people, do you? I never saw it before, but that you would do this to your boyfriend – to me…”

Shit, shit. Don’t cry. Do. Not. Cry. Danny couldn’t understand why Roy, who had never been at a lack of words for a moment in his life, was just sitting there silently while he railed on. The indomitable Bianca del Rio just sat there staring, and increasingly – he thought, maybe – like he was actually biting his tongue.

“You don’t have anything to say? You can’t even defend yourself because you know it’s true. I don’t know if you’ve always been like this, if something changed, or what the fuck is going on.” Danny paused, starting to feel self conscious about the volume of his voice and the lack of chiming in from any of his friends.

“Jesus, Roy. I thought Bianca was an act but the real you is so much worse. I would say I hope Sky’s off fucking someone else too, so you know what it feels like, but you’d have to be a human with emotions to get it. You’re just a heartless evil cunt.” And with that, Danny was out of steam.

—

The next seconds crawled slowly and quietly enough to hear a pin drop. Danny knew this for a fact, because he literally heard the waitress drop her pen at molasses speed. Then the world slammed back into focus, with the same jarring effect as an astronaut getting ejected into space in a Star Trek movie.

Danny felt all eyes on him – 26 silent, unblinking eyes. The only person not still basking in his impassioned speech was Roy himself, who had finally broken the stare; his eyes were closed, maybe even squeezed together, while he rested his forehead on wringing hands. Danny had never seen this body language before, which was strange because Roy was a true creature of habit.  

Feeling totally exposed – a feeling he wasn’t totally in love with at the moment – but still high on righteous indignation, Danny violently stood up to leave. He threw his credit card down on the table and walked towards the exit, speechless as a silent movie…until he heard a mumble.

“What did you say to me?” Danny turned on his heel, sure he heard Roy say something under his breath. He was ready to fight.

“I said he did, Delano. Sky did. He cheated on me. I walked in on him fucking someone. Two weeks ago.”

Danny didn’t go to school for fucking math, but something was clicking. Two weeks ago, cheating, no more Sky…damn the tequila fog.

“You guys have something in common after all – he said I was too cold to fall in love with. Didn’t think I would even care, I can’t feel anything anyway.” Roy wouldn’t look up as he spoke, his voice was calm and controlled. That was really freaking Danny out – this was his somber voice, the same one he used in the days after Danny’s dad died.

What’s going on? Danny was starting to wonder if he’d miscalculated something here. Fucking continuation school.

“You should be happy, turns out you already got what you want. I got cheated on, Danny.” Roy paused and finally looked up.

In one fell swoop, Danny realized he was so very wrong. The eyes Roy had been hiding were as red as his own, but colored instead by broken blood vessels and tears. Danny realized why he didn’t recognize the body language – he’d never seen Roy cry before.

“Happy, even if you’re wrong. I promise you I feel it.”

In that moment Roy’s voice wavered ever so slightly, and Danny felt his whole body come undone. He had to sit back in his chair to keep from falling over, seeing Roy like this turned him to actual human Jell-O.

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck. Fuck. Danny’s mind raced, trying to figure out what to do. How he could fix this.

“I think I should go,” Roy said to Jinkx, who started to move in response. His voice was back to the unnerving calm. “No, stay. I’ll get an Uber, you guys have fun. Let me know how much I owe you.” Roy stood up. “Everyone, it was a pleasure to meet you in the daylight. Glad to know my friends are so well taken care of in Seattle.”

No no no, don’t leave. What is happening? What are you doing? Danny was screaming internally, but he couldn’t figure out what words to say or at this point how to even make sounds come out of his mouth.

“Bye, Danny.”

Roy said those two words with such a tenderness and finality, Danny started to panic. He needed to do something but he was immobilized, his brain fried by his earlier surge of emotion and the overload of new information.

The scars of your love, they leave me breathless I can’t help feeling we could’ve had it all

And just like that Roy was gone.

[flipfundingstuff]

How to Support Minority-Owned Businesses

Between 2007 and 2017, minority-owned small businesses grew by 79%, about 10 times faster than the overall growth rate for US small businesses during the same time frame. But they still make up a small percentage of American businesses—only 20%. That’s because minority businesses are also 2 to 4 times more likely to fail. 

Unraveling systemic models of oppression won’t happen overnight, but there are ways both big and small for individuals to make a difference. Supporting minority-owned businesses is just the start.

The Buy Black Movement

The #BuyBlack movement spotlights Black- and minority-owned businesses. “I became aware that many Black-owned businesses have purposely not shown their faces in fear of losing customers, this is me included,” Maggie Foster, CEO of ClaudeHome, a boutique design firm in NYC, told TeenVogue.  “I’m working on having anyone that has also felt this way to come together and have our photos taken so we can show the world our beautiful faces. As a Black person that has experienced racism and injustice throughout my life, I am so thankful to have the platform I do to spread awareness and educate others.”

“Buying Black” has become as much of a values-driven choice as buying green, shopping small, or buying American. My Black Receipt, an initiative started by Kezia Williams, hopes to turn buying Black from a trending hashtag into a longer-term movement by tracking purchases for Black-owned businesses. “When you invest and purchase from a Black-owned business, what you’re really doing is strengthening the Black community,” Williams told CNN. Consumers can upload their purchases into the database, which Williams and her team will use to track the impact of consumer spending on Black-owned businesses, as well as partner with organizations like Yelp to help people find minority-owned businesses more easily.

To find a local business to support, check directories like the one on My Black Receipt, BlackPages, or Official Black Wall Street. Other lists can be found by industry, like Bon Appetit’s list of Black-owned restaurants across the country or Beyonce’s Black Parade list.

If you do make a purchase, write a review. Online reviews matter nearly as much as word-of-mouth for online purchases, so writing a review on a platform of your choice can help make your purchase go that much further.

The 15% Pledge

Supporting minority-owned businesses isn’t limited to consumer purchases. Evaluate your entire supply chain, from the influencers you follow to where you source your office supplies. 

That’s exactly why Aurora James, founder and creative director at accessories company Brother Vellies, created the 15% pledge. She called out Target, Sephora, Net-a-Porter, Walmart, Whole Foods, and Shopbop, among others, to diversify their suppliers. “This pledge is not prescriptive, because we understand that each business, each milestone, each change, is unique,” says the 15% Pledge website, urging businesses to “Define and publish a plan for growing the share of Black businesses you empower to at least 15%, alongside a concrete strategy by which you plan to stay accountable to and transparent around your commitment.”

The nonprofit spun out of a viral Instagram post in response to performative and empty social media campaigns made by retailers with no plans to change but eager not to be left behind by popular sentiment.

View this post on Instagram

@wholefoods @target @shopmedmen @walmart @saks @sephora @netaporter @barnesandnoble @homedepot I am asking you to commit to buying 15% of your products from Black owned businesses. . So many of your businesses are built on Black spending power. So many of your stores are set up in Black communities. So many of your sponsored posts are seen on Black feeds. This is the least you can do for us. We represent 15% of the population and we need to represent 15% of your shelf space. . Whole Foods if you were to sign on to this pledge, it could immediately drive much needed support to Black farmers. Banks will be forced to take them seriously because they will be walking in with major purchase orders from Whole Foods. Investors for the very first time will start actively seeking them out. Small businesses can turn into bigger ones. Real investment will start happening in Black businesses which will subsequently be paid forward into our Black communities. . Dont get me wrong, I understand the complexities of this request. I am a business Woman. I have sold millions of dollars of product over the years at a business I started with $3500 at a flea market. So I am telling you we can get this figured out. This is an opportunity. It is your opportunity to get in the right side of this. . So for all of the ‘what can we do to help?’ questions out there, this is my personal answer. #15PercentPledge . I will get texts that this is crazy. I will get phone calls that this is too direct, too big of an ask, too this, too that. But I don’t think it’s too anything, in fact I think it’s just a start. You want to be an ally? This is what I’m asking for.

A post shared by Aurora James 🦢 (@aurorajames) on May 29, 2020 at 5:46pm PDT

  Sephora became the first major US retailer to take the pledge. Currently, out of 290 brands it offers, only 9 are Black-owned. “We are inspired to make the 15% Pledge because we believe it is the right thing to do,” Artemis Patrick, Sephora’s executive vice president and chief merchandising officer, told CNN. This move is part of a longer-term plan to change their supply chain and help more minority-owned businesses grow.

Rent the Runway also signed the pledge, telling the New York Times, “We’re collectively reckoning with the fact that for far too long, fashion has co-opted the style, inspiration, and ideas of Black culture without ensuring that the people behind the work are properly compensated.”

Often, word-of-mouth largely determines which brands show up on shelves. Merchandising teams often start with what they’re personally familiar with, and brands pick up steam from there. The important thing is not only giving shelf space but marketing and partnership space, too.

Invest in Minority Businesses

The average entrepreneur is a 35-year-old white male with a degree from an elite university and the youngest of a wealthy family. Centuries of discrimination mean it’s less likely minorities have the kind of inherited generational wealth many white entrepreneurs tap into when they look to start a business. Research also shows that minorities are less likely to be approved for loans or receive investments due to lower collateral, location bias, and credit history.

In a survey released by Morgan Stanley in 2018, 80% of investors agreed that women- and minority-owned businesses received enough funding to run their businesses when only 18% said they “very frequently” review minority-owned businesses. 

Talk about a blind spot.

This blind spot is caused by several factors, with investors citing higher risks for businesses owned by minorities, lack of familiarity, and lack of access to traditional investors in the first place. “Multicultural and women-owned businesses could account for $6.8 trillion in gross receipts if they matched their percentage of the labor force and business revenues were equal to traditional firms,” states the report. “This would represent nearly 3x the current output, with a missed opportunity of $4.4 trillion.”

Supporting Minority-Owned Businesses Supports Your Community

When you support minority-owned businesses, you’re not just helping individual entrepreneurs and business owners but also their employees and communities. Minority-owned businesses account for 50% of the 2 million started in the US in the last 10 years, creating 4.7 million jobs and powering flourishing local economies.

To truly support minority-owned businesses, evaluate the choices you make with your money—a little extra effort can go a long way.

The post How to Support Minority-Owned Businesses appeared first on Lendio.

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[andrewdburton]

Your saving rate: The most important number in personal finance

In order to survive and thrive, you need to earn a profit.

You already know profit is the lifeblood of every business. It’s like food and water for the human body. Although proper nutrition isn’t the purpose of life, we couldn’t exist without it. Food and water give us strength to do the stuff that matters most. So too, profit isn’t necessarily the purpose of business — but a company can’t survive without it.

Here’s a secret: People need profit too.

In personal finance, “profit” is typically called “savings”. That’s too bad. When people hear about savings, their eyes glaze over and their brains turn to mush. Bor-ing! But if you talk about profit instead, people get jazzed: “Of course, I want to earn a profit! Who wouldn’t?”

Profit is easy to calculate. It’s net income, the difference between what you earn and what you spend. You can compute your profit with this simple formula:

PROFIT = INCOME – EXPENSES

If you earned $4000 last month and spent $3000, you had a profit of $1000. If you earned $4000 and spent $4500, you had a loss of $500.

There are only two ways a business can boost profits, and there are only two ways you can boost personal profitability:

Spend less. A business can increase profits by slashing overhead: finding new suppliers, renting cheaper office space, laying off employees. You can increase your personal profit by spending less on groceries, cutting cable television, or refinancing your mortgage.

Earn more. To generate increased revenue, a business might develop new products or find new ways to market its services. At home, you could make more by working overtime, taking a second job, or selling your motorcycle.

When you earn a profit, you don’t have to worry about how you’ll pay your bills. Profit lets you chip away at the chains of debt. Profit removes the wall of worry and grants you control of your life. Profit frees you to do work that you want instead of being trapped by a job you hate. When you make a profit, you truly become the boss of your own life.

With even a small surplus, the balance of power shifts in your favor.

The Most Important Number in Personal Finance

If you’ve ever calculated your net worth, you know that number is a snapshot of your current wealth. But it’s more than that. Your net worth is the grand total of years (or decades) of profits and losses.

As the authors of Your Money or Your Life put it, “[Your net worth] is what you currently have to show for your lifetime income; the rest is memories and illusions.” Ouch!

The greater the gap between your earning and spending, the faster your net worth grows (or shrinks). This may seem obvious, but it’s important. Everything you do — clipping coupons, asking for a raise, saving for a retirement — should be done to increase your profit and wealth.

But profit doesn’t mean much on its own. Is a $1000 monthly profit good or bad? Well, it depends on your circumstances.

If your income is $2000 per month (or $24,000 per year), a $1000 monthly profit is great. That’s a saving rate of 50%. Congratulations!

On the other hand, if your income is $20,000 per month (or $240,000 per year), a $1000 monthly profit gives you a saving rate of 5%. That’s average at best.

You see, it’s not your total income that determines how wealthy you are and will become. Nor is it your monthly surplus. No, the true measure of progress is your saving rate — how much you save as a percentage of your income.

In business, saving rate is called profit margin. I think it’s useful for everyday people — especially folks who have decided to act like the CFO of their own lives — to think of saving rate as profit margin too.

Pull out your personal mission statement. Look at your goals. Your profit margin directly affects how quickly you’ll achieve these aims. A saving rate of 20% will allow you to reach your destination twice as quickly as a saving rate of 10%. And if you can save 40% or 60%, you’ll get there even quicker.

The growth of your wealth snowball is directly dependent on the size of your saving rate.

Profit is Power

Now I’d like you to meet my friend Pete:

Some of you may know Pete as Mr. Money Mustache.

Pete’s personal mission is to enjoy a rich life with his small family in a small house in a small town in Colorado. He wants to pass his days slicing through canyons on his bicycle, building things in his workshop, and sharing quiet moments with his wife and son. And Pete doesn’t want to be tied to a job.

Following the standard advice to save between 10% and 20% of his income, it would have taken decades for Pete to achieve these goals. Pete is an impatient man. He didn’t want to wait that long, so he deliberately pumped up his saving rate.

After college, Pete and his wife worked long hours at jobs that paid well. They moved to a town where the cost of living was low and they could bike anywhere they needed. They bought a modest home. The Mustache family generated a lot of revenue while keeping overhead low.

As a result, Pete and his wife set aside more than half of their combined take-home pay. After ten years with profit margins near 70%, they were able to “retire”. He was thirty years old. Now, a decade later, Pete and his wife continue to pursue their mission, happily ignoring detractors who say what they’ve done is impossible.

The more you save — the higher your profit margin — the sooner you can have the things you really want out of life.

This is the bottom line, the entire thesis of the Money Boss method: Profit is power.

Computing Your Profit Margin

My mission at Get Rich Slowly is to give you the power to choose the lifestyle you want. That means helping you boost your saving rate. If you promise to do the work needed to generate greater “profits”, I promise to share the strategies and mindsets that will help you do so.

To find your current saving rate, you need two other numbers: your monthly income and your monthly expenses. For now, let’s look at only last month. (You’re free to run the numbers on past months or years, but for this exercise last month is enough.)

Here’s how to find your income and expenses:

If you’re a money geek who already generates a monthly income statement (a.k.a. profit-and-loss statement), just grab your total income and total expenses from the form.

Many of you track your money in Quicken or through services like Personal Capital. These too make it easy to find your monthly income and expenses. Some will even compute your profit for you. Here, for instance, are my own numbers from Personal Capital. You can see I had a $3214 profit in this example month, which means my saving rate was about 32%. (By the way, these numbers aren’t normal for me. Both income and spending were high!)

If your finances aren’t yet automated, it’s not too tough to run numbers by hand. Collect your brokerage, bank, and credit-card statements from last month. Use these to total your income and expenses. (You shouldn’t have to do this line by line. Most statements total income and expenses separately in some fashion.)

What if you don’t track your money? Start! If you owned a business, you’d keep books. Well, a money boss keeps books too. It’s the only way to spot trends and to measure progress. Pick a tracking method — many GRS readers like YNAB — and make tracking part of your weekly financial routine.

Now it’s time for a little math. To find your monthly profit, subtract your income from your expenses. (If your income was $3500 and your expenses were $3000, your profit was $500.) To find your profit margin (or saving rate), divide your profit by your income. (Using the previous example, you’d divide $500 by $3500 to get 0.14286 — a profit margin of 14.3%.)

Burn this number onto your brain. We’re going to spend the months and years ahead making your profit margin grow.

If you want to get fancy, run the numbers again. This time subtract your mortgage and car loan and credit-card payments (and so on) from your expenses before calculating profit and profit margin. See how much profit you’ll have once you’ve paid off your debt? Cool, huh?

Note: During the month of March, I’m migrating old Money Boss material to Get Rich Slowly — including the articles that describe the “Money Boss method”. This is the third of those articles.

Part one answered the question, “What is financial independence?”

Part two looked at why you should run your life like a business

Part three explained how to write a personal mission statement

Look for further installments in the “Money Boss method” series twice a week until they’ve all been transferred from the old site.

The post Your saving rate: The most important number in personal finance appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

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[globalpa]

Being a PA Abroad: The Reality

Moving Back

My time in the UK is again coming to an end. This is the fourth time my wife and I are buying one way tickets to move from the UK to the US. I am happy for the change, as I get wanderlust -- the kind of guy that jiggles my legs in the theatre after half an hour, or catch a glimpse of greener grass over yonder.  All my life, even as a military brat travelling every year, I have been on the move. Will I be living my whole life this way?      

The constant traveler: It's definitely not a jet-set lifestyle and the work isn't always exactly what you want it to be. When I was younger it was easy to find a temping office job or barista gig upon moving to a new place. But when you're older, with family and career, a little more preparation and less spontaneity is needed to make it work. 

    Financially, moving to and working abroad is challenging. Sacrifices have to be made.  You either keep selling everything, or keep most things in storage. Renting is a sink-hole. Living in London in 2016-2017 has been the most expensive place to date in my life. I am moving back to the Florida temporarily in November, until I start my new position (A new job as a PA abroad! I will talk about that below). We need to save money, repay daunting debts and student loans, living on relatives couches and spare rooms. No eating out or Disney World visits for us. This is the glamour you don't often hear about with people who live on the road. But for me, I'll take the novel life experiences over the material possessions any day. Concerning being a PA in England

First off, let me reiterate that my opinion is my own, biased as it may be, based on my personal experiences here working as a PA in the UK. It is not the same for everyone. Many PAs are doing great things, have satisfying jobs, and have a supportive atmosphere. Even though the NHS is this humongous entity (the 5th most employees for an organisation the world, right after McDonald's -- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_largest_employers), every hospital and trust is different.      

I wanted to share my thoughts post-national PA conference (https://www.rcplondon.ac.uk/events/faculty-physician-associates-second-national-cpd-conference). I can't help but to feel overwhelming disappointment, for several reasons. Not just about course offerings, but it felt like it did last year, except last year's conference was the first one at the Royal College of Physicians, and seeing all of us UK PAs together felt so novel, and it felt like there was so much planned in the next year regarding growth of the profession. They did expand from 15 to 30 programmes in the UK, and from 200 to 600 PAs, with projected 3500 PAs in the work force by 2020.     However, it felt the same in that the Physician Associate profession is still not regulated by parliament, therefore we still cannot prescribe, order ionising radiation, and thus still held with some scepticism from work colleagues unfamiliar with the role, and the press. I keep finding negative articles like this one from the Daily Mail that paint us in a negative light (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-4896782/Britain-begging-qualified-doctors-staff.html). Any press is good press?     I was looking forward to hearing about what developments have been accomplished by the Faculty of Physician Associates regarding the regulation issue, which to me seems the number one priority for this profession to flourish here. Alas, the only update is that Brexit pushed our agenda further down the queue, and it is a 2 year process minimum from when this starts and when regulation happens. I fear a large bottleneck for PAs in the future. All these newly minted PAs with nowhere for them to go, no one convinced to hire them, and them not able to practise to their full scope of practise. I left with a sense of disappointment that even after my time here, so much is the same. But there are other strides made. I just hope that when I look to these shores in 5 years, things will be different. I hope to see more UK PAs in general practice rather than hospital based medicine, as is the trend currently now.      

My own personal experience working as a PA in England has also been lacklustre. Let's not mince words: I don't like my job. I didn't move here for a boost in salary or for the clinical work. But that's not to say I haven't learned loads from it. I realised that Family Medicine is the place for me, and that makes me happy. I did refresh so much about acute hospital medicine. I learned how the NHS works from the inside perspective. However, my insight is limited because I only worked at one trust of hundreds, and mine is not the best one, well at least according to this red-top paper (http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/ae-crisis-exposed-only-three-9801509). In fact, the 8 US PAs based in London through the NPAEP are at the worst 2 hospitals in the UK (based on A&E wait times). Working at a bad place for a good purpose is my solace: expanding recognition for PAs, helping the local PA training programmes, attending conferences, writing papers and learning more about clinical leadership. It will always boggle my mind about the inefficiencies of the system, and shear stress and struggle young doctors go through, the turnover of the senior staff, and that there seems to be no long term plans here (in NW London trusts) for PAs as there is in other trusts like Leeds. Hospitals here are reacting to the present, putting out fires now rather than planning for the future. I feel like just another warm body to fill the rota, and further demeaning that I cannot sign my own prescriptions.      

In neuro-rehabilitation medicine, I have learned loads about Neurology, and from what therapists do (physiotherapy, occupational, speech and language, psychology, environmental control technology). But it is a far cry from what I originally wanted to accomplish here. I originally signed up for a position in General Practice, but due to issues with getting my work visa approved, I was instead sponsored by the Hillingdon Hospital, and assigned to the neuro-rehab ward. It's one of our strengths as PAs to be flexible with our clinical practice. but it sure made me realise where my heart truly lies. I am happy that I am continuing my career in Family Medicine in the future... 

My Next Adventures

Firstly, I am looking forward to escaping another bleak, bone-achingly cold English winter, and spending it with dearly missed family in sunny Florida. As I said, we are living on the cheap, saving money, living with family, getting back on our feet for a few months until my next position starts. I hope to work locum PA jobs in family practice, urgent care, or emergency medicine for a bit.      

In 2018, I am proud to say that I will be starting a job I have been dreaming about since I first read about it in PA school in 2009. I will be a Medical Practitioner with the Foreign Service of the US State Department. This will involve me travelling around the world to different embassies throughout my career, on short 2-3 year assignments, to countries with various degrees of resources. I am thrilled to be able to continue to work abroad, but via my own country's scope of PA practise. I am pleased to be back into primary care again, greasing the wheels of diplomacy by serving the embassy staff and their families. I will have a job that seems tailor made for my eagerness to travel to all sorts of locations, and to do so frequently. Also, my family are also able to join me as well!     

When the time comes in 2018 when I am ready to join, and they are ready to have me, we will move to Washington DC for a group orientation and for preparation for my move abroad. My intention is to continue blogging about experiences being a global PA in this capacity.      

I was talking to my son Caspian as we stood in the queue at the petrol station. A sign said the jackpot for the lottery was 9.8 million pounds. I asked him what he would buy, and he said 100 footballs, and 10 football goals! I thought about it too, as one does. I was so happy to realise that even if I won it all, I would still like take this position with the Foreign Service.      

I am so looking forward to the many great, and not so great, new adventures to come. Again, the traveling life is not easy, and not glamorous, but I find it fulfilling, and introducing my family to different cultures, experiences, and ways of life is a wonderful gift I can share with them. 

...Life is But a Dream.