"Focus on the journey, not the destination. Joy is found not in finishing an activity but in doing it." Greg Anderson
Easy for him to say! All he ever has to do is wash and shave. That's because he's a man.

My journey starts with the FIRST BLOG; you'll need coffee/tea and probably some chocolate digestives, or maybe some Cadbury's Fruit and Nut, or Green and Black's Organic if you've got more money than sense.

Friday, 25 March 2011

You won't find another fool like me, babe (New Seekers, 1973) Part 2

Three days until the date and email-wise we were practically walking off hand in hand into the cyber sunset with Mantovani's orchestra in the background. You can click the link and play it in another window while reading… Ambience, doncha know?

I’d ransacked my wardrobe for something suitable to wear – smart/casual  I thought would be most appropriate – and, taking Stella’s example about feeling good about yourself, I’d nipped in to town to buy some new lingerie. Before you get any ideas, I was not planning on revealing the afore-mentioned undies; I just thought it might put an added spring in my step.

Oh, did I tell you that he had a beard? It had caused me some consternation initially - not that I’m pogonophobic, you understand. No, I had another worry. I spent most of my 21st year being madly in love with a guy with a beard, and let’s say we were both in the happy position of counting kissing as our main hobby. Yum – he was such a good snogger! (Hehe! Wouldn’t it be great if you could put that in the Skills and Talents section of CVs?) However, the cruel facts are these: beards and moustaches irritate delicate skin, so for most of that year I looked like this.
My beloved didn’t care: I didn’t care. The tongue action and ancillary stuff was worth it. Still, on reflection, it’s not an optimum look for a woman moving into that 50 plus bracket. Besides, according to Stella, I have a moustache of my own. ( Ha! I’ve just had a vision of our two moustaches rubbing against each other like two bits of twig and precipitating a forest fire. But I digress. Bit of a Salvador Dali moment there.) 

Anyway, two days before the date I got an email. The abridged version went thus.

My dear Bette,
I have no idea where to begin or how to put this into words. I have been looking forward so much to us meeting that I have barely thought of anything else, now sadly that cannot now happen. I have always been totally open and honest with you, my life, my past and my hopes for the future. In that continued manner of honesty I have to tell you that a few days ago I met someone and started a relationship with her.

Erm, I'm sorry? What? WHAT? WHAT?

I sat there for a couple of minutes, waiting for it to sink in, wondering if the whole thing had been a massive hoax by some Nigerian in a spider-infested basement in Lagos trying to scam a few grand off some desperate idiot woman (***waves at friends***) on the other side of the world… How weird! But the email went on to say that he had some bad news about something and in a moment of (let’s call it) frailty, maybe loneliness, for want of anything better,  when this opportunity presented itself i.e. a willing female with a pulse, he grabbed it.

He went on to say I had every right to think of him as the bastard of all time – oh, and a whole pack of other stuff. Explanations, justifications:  yada schmada, etc, and so on and so forth.

Now, I don’t know about you… But me, apart from being taken aback by the complexities of human nature, I just thought, ‘OK, girl. You’ve been a twerp. You are probably well out of it. If this person is so needy that he succumbs to temptation at the whiff of Smartie, you are well out of it.’ More than anything though, it was a bubble bursting moment; one second the optimism and happiness was palpable, next second no trace. Rien. Nada.

However, it was really less about temptation, I think, and more about need, and with regard to this, I felt sorry for him. Need, loneliness, the desire for human contact. Women have it easier on this score. I’ve got my kids for affection; I have a loving family to whom I can turn at any time; I have a whole bunch of girly friends whom I can hug whenever I please. Bella thinks nothing of it if I drape myself across her while we’re watching telly when I’m at her house, and neither does her husband. Even that prickle bucket Stella rarely leaves without a little hug and kiss, no matter how revolting(ly) I behave, look or smell, which as you know is generally très on all counts when I’m chez moi in blob mode.  

So I replied politely - no reason to do otherwise - and said I wished him well and hoped everything would work out for him and this lady. Followers! What would be the point of anything else? It had cost me nothing (we’ll discount the hair cut/colour, lingerie and lasering because they are all long term projects), I had in fact had a super time living in this Lala-land, and no harm was really done.

Three days later I got another email. Gob-smacking it was. 

Now I've read somewhere that blogs should only appear in bite-size chunks (I've failed already!) because none of us has the attention span we used to have in the old days before GM foods, and our lives are way too busy to read whole chapters at a time. So, this seems a good moment to let you do whatever your life currently demands. 


    Paul Wardell said...

    Ah yes the old last minute switcheroo/curveball/cowardice (do not delete as all applicable). It's baffling as you had been messaging for some time building a rapport and then in the hours or days before your first meeting he had built a clearly rock solid rapport with soemone and able to call it a relationship... There are words and sounds to accompany these kind of antics. Roll on the next installment.

    snoozy said...

    Oh dear, This all sounds very stressful!! On the plus side you don't have to bother dressing up and can spend the evening doing all the things a girl really likes!! Drink wine,eat chocolate whilst lounging in those over sized pyjamas......or is that just my idea of a good night lol

    Kettlehunter said...

    Pah! How dare you finish there!
    I am now going to have to teeter on the edge of my(very uncomfortable) seat on my (not inconsiderable) behind until the next installment - how cruel can one get?

    Stella said...

    Prickle bucket, rhinoceros, how many more insults are you going to throw my way oh bearded one:)
    Anyway just to cheer you up I have found some fab new treatments we can try.
    The problem is my dear Bette is that you are looking for lurve when what you really need as I said before is a jolly good shag BTW just sent you the new Ann Summers catalogue should keep you going till the shag arrives.

    D said...

    "We'll be right back after station identification...."
    [insert 1 pornographic jeans, 1 yoghurt and 2 personal hygiene commercials plus a local car dealership atrocity where the owner dons a clown's suit and red nose and screams at the tv-viewing audience to 'come on down' and 'steal a deal']
    CB, I have this awful sensation of deja vu, "been there, done that" but I'm convinced I've never shared my Mike L. story with you? Have I? I'm sure I haven't?
    Never mind. This is your life .
    (Nice use of cliffhanger, btw.)

    Cousin Bette said...

    D ma chere! I am all oreilles! Do share your Mike L story! Nothing gives me greater pleasure than wallowing in the misfortune of others, as the novel bearing my name clearly shows. ;)

    Cousin Bette said...

    Stellaaaaaaaa! Please. Really. Must you behave in such an appalling fashion on my blogspot? I have no intention of reading Ann Summers; I'm still wading through Heidi in German, for goodness sake. Although - come to think of it - which one provides a more useful education, I wonder...

    Stella said...
    This comment has been removed by the author.
    Stella said...

    There comes a time in a woman's life when when has to choose between the size of her bum and the wrinkles on her face. I always say go with a bigger bum saves on fillers and botox - and men do like something to grab nothing worse than a skinny ass!!!!

    Anonymous said...

    Oh no you can't stop there. This is like an old episode of Dr Who ... hopefully the guy wont turn out like some slug type creature ... well anymore than he already seems! Next part please :)

    Ellen said...

    I try to stick to the 2 e mails, then just meet (to see if a) he's a troll b) he's not at all what he professed to be c) he's a 17 year old kid just screwing around on his dad's computer d) he's a jackass.

    Funny, more times than not it ends up being a or d ;-) Sorry he turned into a douche, but guys onlline are just, well, shitty....

    Kettlehunter said...

    My darling Bette
    The greater the weight on the behind the more it pulls down all the wrinkles on your face!! Haaaa!!!