Grim Jim and Dawn got married. My first successful matchmake. Well, the first that has actually deteriorated to marriage anyway.
They had a party last night to celebrate it. I didn't really want to go. It wasn't like it was a BIG wedding bash, taking place in their new kitchen, the one in the new house I had helped them buy, but it was a Wedding Do nonetheless so my heckles were naturally raised.
I went early, unfashionably so, due in part to the time of my appointment with Danny the Oracle Hairdresser ( that accounts for the early bit) but more to the fact that since growing to resemble Bella Emberg's larger, less attractive sister, I avoid clothes shops, specially the type that have angled mirrors in the changing rooms and Anorexic Assistants who smile through you rather than at you. I had attempted to buy something new but I only managed to get stocked up on large comfy knickers. It wasn't like there was gonna be a Handsome Best Man or anything to impress.
I did make an extra special effort for my visit to Danny, though. I normally go for a touch-up ( for my roots only, sadly) on a Thursday night straight after work, by which time my hair is usually looking distinctly lack-lustre. This time I was able to wash it ( in my most expensive shampoo) and style it immediately beforehand, and pull straight up outside the door of the salon so it didn't even have time to frizz up into its Crystal Tips impersonation. Danny approved. I'd persuaded him to chop about 5 inches off it just after Christmas. I haven't had it cut since and it's now just skimming my shoulders. It sort of flicks out a bit and bounces quite a lot ( pretty much like the rest of me really, wide and still moving 5 minutes after my feet have come to a halt).
Danny pronounced me "Hot" and predicted that I'd meet someone. I giggled, blushed, scoffed, and disabused him of such a foolish notion. Who on earth would Grim Jim poossibly know that might be in the slightest bit interesting? He comes from the far side of Goole, for goodness sake.
After helping put the finishing touches to the party food, without pinching a single thing, not even the mushroom vol-au-vents, I went outside to the small marquee to check the karaoke machine was working properly. I was thorough, singing my way through 8 CDs before the first party guests arrived. Unfortunately, Dawn didn't tell me anyone had shown up and left me out there singing my way through the last 4, with the back door open, before bothering to fetch me in for introductions. Bitch! That's the last time I fix her up with one of my absolutely-no-potential-whatsoever ex-travel companions.
I knew a few people from the estate agency where she works, a fellow lawyer who seems to be on perpetual honeymoon, maternity leave or stress leave so never returns calls, and of course, Grim Jim's parents who I had met once or twice around the time of our trip to Rome last year. It felt like I knew all GJ's friends, the ones from his home village. Well, once you'd met one, you'd met 'em all. They all looked alike and probably shared a few common genes.
I didn't know the guy with the twinkly dark eyes over in the corner by the cooker, though. The one with the broad shoulders and fit back. The one with the cute tight jeans and wide, sexy smile. THE ONE WHO KEPT LOOKING OVER AT ME. The One who didn't have a Mrs Twinkly Dark Eyes draped on his arm.
He started to make a move towards me so I did what any confident, intelligent woman with bouncy hair would do. I went back out to the karaoke machine, dragging GJ's 12 year old daughter with me for company. That was where Dawn found me to tell me that Mr Twinkly Eyes, or Gary as I learned, was asking all about me and seemed keen to get acquainted. I stayed outside until I had drunk enough wine to attempt the operatic bits of Bohemian Rhapsody ( I thought I did rather well so I must have been seriously pissed), by which time the kitchen had emptied, all apart from Gary Twinkly Eyes, the next door neighbour.
I sat down with Dawn, GJ and GTE in the lounge for a night cap. I smiled at GTE, thinking how attractive he was. 40 years old, a builder, owns his own company, with staff. All this I had learned from Dawn. I hadn't actually spoken to him up to this point. That was when it all went wrong. He opened his mouth. And all I heard were the words of Moustache Mark. Peas in a Pod. They could have come out of the same Approved School class.
Why can't handsome men be single AND intelligent? Why can't interesting men be attractive? Why on earth didn't I go on a date with Dynamo Dean when I had the chance?.
They had a party last night to celebrate it. I didn't really want to go. It wasn't like it was a BIG wedding bash, taking place in their new kitchen, the one in the new house I had helped them buy, but it was a Wedding Do nonetheless so my heckles were naturally raised.
I went early, unfashionably so, due in part to the time of my appointment with Danny the Oracle Hairdresser ( that accounts for the early bit) but more to the fact that since growing to resemble Bella Emberg's larger, less attractive sister, I avoid clothes shops, specially the type that have angled mirrors in the changing rooms and Anorexic Assistants who smile through you rather than at you. I had attempted to buy something new but I only managed to get stocked up on large comfy knickers. It wasn't like there was gonna be a Handsome Best Man or anything to impress.
I did make an extra special effort for my visit to Danny, though. I normally go for a touch-up ( for my roots only, sadly) on a Thursday night straight after work, by which time my hair is usually looking distinctly lack-lustre. This time I was able to wash it ( in my most expensive shampoo) and style it immediately beforehand, and pull straight up outside the door of the salon so it didn't even have time to frizz up into its Crystal Tips impersonation. Danny approved. I'd persuaded him to chop about 5 inches off it just after Christmas. I haven't had it cut since and it's now just skimming my shoulders. It sort of flicks out a bit and bounces quite a lot ( pretty much like the rest of me really, wide and still moving 5 minutes after my feet have come to a halt).
Danny pronounced me "Hot" and predicted that I'd meet someone. I giggled, blushed, scoffed, and disabused him of such a foolish notion. Who on earth would Grim Jim poossibly know that might be in the slightest bit interesting? He comes from the far side of Goole, for goodness sake.
After helping put the finishing touches to the party food, without pinching a single thing, not even the mushroom vol-au-vents, I went outside to the small marquee to check the karaoke machine was working properly. I was thorough, singing my way through 8 CDs before the first party guests arrived. Unfortunately, Dawn didn't tell me anyone had shown up and left me out there singing my way through the last 4, with the back door open, before bothering to fetch me in for introductions. Bitch! That's the last time I fix her up with one of my absolutely-no-potential-whatsoever ex-travel companions.
I knew a few people from the estate agency where she works, a fellow lawyer who seems to be on perpetual honeymoon, maternity leave or stress leave so never returns calls, and of course, Grim Jim's parents who I had met once or twice around the time of our trip to Rome last year. It felt like I knew all GJ's friends, the ones from his home village. Well, once you'd met one, you'd met 'em all. They all looked alike and probably shared a few common genes.
I didn't know the guy with the twinkly dark eyes over in the corner by the cooker, though. The one with the broad shoulders and fit back. The one with the cute tight jeans and wide, sexy smile. THE ONE WHO KEPT LOOKING OVER AT ME. The One who didn't have a Mrs Twinkly Dark Eyes draped on his arm.
He started to make a move towards me so I did what any confident, intelligent woman with bouncy hair would do. I went back out to the karaoke machine, dragging GJ's 12 year old daughter with me for company. That was where Dawn found me to tell me that Mr Twinkly Eyes, or Gary as I learned, was asking all about me and seemed keen to get acquainted. I stayed outside until I had drunk enough wine to attempt the operatic bits of Bohemian Rhapsody ( I thought I did rather well so I must have been seriously pissed), by which time the kitchen had emptied, all apart from Gary Twinkly Eyes, the next door neighbour.
I sat down with Dawn, GJ and GTE in the lounge for a night cap. I smiled at GTE, thinking how attractive he was. 40 years old, a builder, owns his own company, with staff. All this I had learned from Dawn. I hadn't actually spoken to him up to this point. That was when it all went wrong. He opened his mouth. And all I heard were the words of Moustache Mark. Peas in a Pod. They could have come out of the same Approved School class.
Why can't handsome men be single AND intelligent? Why can't interesting men be attractive? Why on earth didn't I go on a date with Dynamo Dean when I had the chance?.
posted by Cherrypie at 6:16 pm
4 Comments:
I was getting quite excited near the end, and, oh, nope...there he goes...he's a dope. Sorry Cherrypie. I HAD hoped for at least a bit of a roll in the hay for you. I AM glad the karaoke went well. I would loved to have heard the operatic bits...that's my favourite part. :)
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
woops, I added a comment under Brian's name. I'll try again.
Maybe the hot guy was just really intimidated by your beauty and savvy conversation and it just made him bumble incoherently. Any chance of that? or did he remove all doubt?
I'm eternally optimistic, Joyce so that thought had crossed my mind. However, I am also fairly realistic ( thank god none of my proper friends that occasionally read this ever post comments or I would be shot down in flames for that) and the chances of him being anything other than a neanderthal knuckle-dragger are somewhat slim.
Brian - I'm surprised you didn't hear the operatic bits. I did get rather carried away ( blush)
Hi Deeleea, thanks for returning the compliment xx
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