Looking on the positive side, at least I had a second date with Psycho Chef, even if nothing would have possessed me to accept a third! However, they do say dates are like buses and so I should not have been surprised a couple of weeks later when, minding my own business in Homebase on a Sunday morning, along with my mother who was staying with me at the time, another one came along...
Wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles, I had an ominous feeling that I was being followed. Everywhere I went, so did a strapping young man with the physique of a rugby-player, the olive skin and dark eyes I find so attractive and the only unfortunate aspect of the eye candy that was stalking me amidst the Farrow & Ball was his long dark locks which appeared to have had a fight with a botttle of Sun-In ... and lost.
So it was that as I hit the garden section looking for teak oil, the same man suddenly appeared by my side and asked which lawn mower he should buy. How should I know? And, as usual, when confronted with an attractive man, all conversational skills deserted me and I stood there opening and shutting my mouth like a demented Koy Carp - in this instance, Mr Fish may well have found me attractive.
At that moment, probably luckily - although I didn't view it that way at the time, my mother appeared just in time to give her learned views on the relative merits of different mowers. Thanking her, before he drifted off past the hoses towards the door I breathed a sign of relief. It was shortlived as I bowled round the corner and wheeled my trolley straight into him. Blushing and looking at the floor, I mumbled an apology but before I could scuttle off he asked whether he could have my number.
Despite his dubious hair colour, I was still flattered at being persued by a man who was at least 5 years younger than me and extremely attractive, so what did I do...coyly ask for his number instead and call him at a later date after a suitable cool delay? No, of course not - I asked him if he was single, asked him if he was serious and then gave him my number. And if you think this sorry episode couldn't get any worse, you'd be wrong!
Rounding up my mother and the trolley, I raced out to the car park - accidentally dropped the teak oil, it split and its contents spilt everywhere. Whilst dealing with that, the trolley made a bid for freedom and almost hit a row of cars opposite mine. Just heading off a serious car crash, I looked up to see Lawnmower Man, who had observed the whole spectacle, on his phone mouthing 'Bridget Jones, Bridget Jones!'
In the circumstances, I couldn't really argue! Typical - the one attractive man I'd met in ages who appeared single, funny and interested and he was hardly likely to call now...was he?
So it was that as I hit the garden section looking for teak oil, the same man suddenly appeared by my side and asked which lawn mower he should buy. How should I know? And, as usual, when confronted with an attractive man, all conversational skills deserted me and I stood there opening and shutting my mouth like a demented Koy Carp - in this instance, Mr Fish may well have found me attractive.
At that moment, probably luckily - although I didn't view it that way at the time, my mother appeared just in time to give her learned views on the relative merits of different mowers. Thanking her, before he drifted off past the hoses towards the door I breathed a sign of relief. It was shortlived as I bowled round the corner and wheeled my trolley straight into him. Blushing and looking at the floor, I mumbled an apology but before I could scuttle off he asked whether he could have my number.
Despite his dubious hair colour, I was still flattered at being persued by a man who was at least 5 years younger than me and extremely attractive, so what did I do...coyly ask for his number instead and call him at a later date after a suitable cool delay? No, of course not - I asked him if he was single, asked him if he was serious and then gave him my number. And if you think this sorry episode couldn't get any worse, you'd be wrong!
Rounding up my mother and the trolley, I raced out to the car park - accidentally dropped the teak oil, it split and its contents spilt everywhere. Whilst dealing with that, the trolley made a bid for freedom and almost hit a row of cars opposite mine. Just heading off a serious car crash, I looked up to see Lawnmower Man, who had observed the whole spectacle, on his phone mouthing 'Bridget Jones, Bridget Jones!'
In the circumstances, I couldn't really argue! Typical - the one attractive man I'd met in ages who appeared single, funny and interested and he was hardly likely to call now...was he?
No comments:
Post a Comment