The Blonde with the legs has deserted me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I might as well begin this blog as I mean to go on, detailing my love life – err lack of it – as it lurches from disaster to abject failure and back again. Four years I have devoted to the pursuit of one woman and neither of us is getting any younger. At the moment, well…

I am having a really bad time. I have been driving my daughter around the country in her quest for a job and in the past couple of weeks the ’miles travelled score’ is well into four figures. I get up, have a shower and start driving, I go to bed driving – two o’clock this morning I carried out an emergency braking manoeuvre and fell out of bed.

I have cats in the garden, blue-tits in the wall, mice in the shed and my son has fleas – everything is going wrong. The bread has gone mouldy, milk’s off, we’ve run out of sugar and tea and I had to have sausages for my breakfast, I am going to bed with heartburn.

Which brings me to the blonde-with-the-legs who is being even less co-operative than normal. She saw me yesterday in the road for the first time in weeks and what did she say?

‘Thought, we’d got rid of you – I haven’t had a bruise for ages.’ The years I have dedicated to the pursuit of that woman…

I let her unfortunate remark go by me, flung my head high and ignored her.

‘Something wrong with your neck she asked?’ Again I ignored her, gave her the cold shoulder.

I decided to be haughty, treat her with distain, cold and proud – after a week I realised it wasn’t working. I went around to her house to give her a piece of my mind!

‘I have come to give you a piece of my mind,’ I said.

‘Sure you can spare it,’ She said

‘I have a damn-good mind to dump you and go back to my ex-wife,’ I said.

‘Give her my sympathy,’ She said

‘You have broken my heart,’ I said.

‘I was tryin’ f’ yer neck,’ she said.

‘You have broken my heart. You are the only woman I have ever really loved and you have thrown that love back in my face and left me desolate and alone.’

‘That’s another thing,’ She said. ‘I am never going to the theatre with you again. You’ve been hamming it up ever since we saw Les Mis’ – you’ve been unbearable.’

‘You’re terrified of real emotion,’ I said

‘Rats,’ She said.

‘I’m going and I won’t be back,’ I said. ‘Don’t come looking for me, as far as you are concerned, I won’t be there,’

It was no good, though. You just can’t get real feeling into it when you’re shouting through a letter box.

first posted on the ON/AVN SGIA, Inc. site

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: