(This was meant to be a short little anecdote. But then it became sort of a writing exercise… devolving into self-indulgent puerility lol. Whatever.) 
Passed a woman walking her dog the other day. She was messing about with her phone when I spotted her on the path ahead of me; the dog, unleashed, sniffed around close by. With her hatted head down and her motionless figure concealed by thick winter clothing (the weather here seems to be having a little difficulty keeping up with the seasons), a first impression could scarcely have been less striking.
With no thing or person to obscure my view of the mystery female, I continued to cast the odd casual glance at her as I drew nearer, fully expecting her to pay me no heed. At the very last second, however, she lifted her head, and I discovered, much to surprise, that she was incredibly pretty. The first thing I noticed was the fact that she was smiling; most striking, however, were her eyes, which seemed to me as bright and as blue as I’d ever seen. Needless to say, I was taken aback. So much so, in fact, that the ostensibly simple task which common courtesy demanded of me – that of reciprocating the smile – was beyond my capability, and I passed the poor woman wearing an expression which, if mind’s eye doesn’t deceive me, you seldom find outside an aquarium.
A few paces on and the urge to steal one last glance was irresistible – though not for the usual reason, if you catch my drift. I was looking for clues. Clues regarding her identity. One of those desperate, searching looks – as if, by some bizarre stroke of luck, her name and address might just happen to be pinned to her back! I need hardly tell you, reader, that in this respect I was disappointed.
For the next few minutes I was in a bit of a daze. In a busy place, amongst a crowd: OK, you’re expecting to see the odd good-looking gal. But when there’s hardly a soul around, for one of the handful of people you pass to be stunningly beautiful is a little bewildering. And it means more. Maybe that’s irrational – but it just does.
So of course I now can’t help but wonder how customary it is for this person to be seen walking her dog in that vicinity. Questions, question, questions. Does she live nearby? Seems likely enough. Does she pass this spot every day? Unlikely. Every week? Maybe. What day was it, anyway? Thursday? Yes, Thursday. But what time? Agh… Why didn’t you check? Fool! Six o’clock? No, a little later, I fancy. Half-past. Yes, something like that. What route did she/does she take? Had she come from town and was circling back on herself? Or had she come from the beach? And then the inevitable, more pragmatic questions. What does it matter? What am I going to do about it? Even if I did see her again, what, other than “hello”, could I, could anyone, say in such a scenario? “Cute Dog!” “Hey, I like yer hat!” “Do you walk here often?” No, no, no. I think not.
Of course, the most likely outcome is that I’ll never see her again. Not that I’m trying to sound melodramatic or anything: it’s just the way it goes. Particularly with good-looking people, it seems to me. They don’t hang around, do they. Or maybe it’s just that they don’t hang around me!
You know, I used to think that there weren’t many attractive young folk where I live. I’ve now come to the conclusion that there are: they’re just really fucking elusive! I’ll tell you what they’re like. Badgers. You know they’re there, and yet you hardly ever see them. Once in a blue moon, you might catch a fleeting glimpse of one – usually of their backend as they scurry down somebody’s driveway… Sorry, I’m talking about badgers now, you understand, not good-looking people – should have made that clear. Maybe I could use that as a conversation starter: “Do you know what you remind me of? I’ll give you a clue: they’re black and white…” Er – no.
Yes, elusive is what they are. Ugly people, on the other hand: can’t get away from ‘em! Popping up here, there and everywhere. Oh look, there’s that ugly person – again. And Oh look, there’s that guy with the face like a rabid chinchilla... With a face like a Mexican douche peddler. Like a demonic pony. With a face like a tearful handjob. Like a tainted mango. Like an all-you-can-eat zoo. Like a catastrophic fart. With a face like unending grief. Like a lovesick cobra. Like a graveside erection… A doomed picnic… A haunted seesaw… A cursed swimming hat. With a face like the Pope’s morning glory. Like a botched compliment. Like a furious possum… An infamous parsnip… A remote controlled git. With a face like a goblin orgy. Like an antique butt plug. Like… Well, you get the idea with that.
Tomorrow is Thursday. Will she be there again? Will I be there again? And one final question: Who gives a damn?!
Not to be continued…
Passed a woman walking her dog the other day. She was messing about with her phone when I spotted her on the path ahead of me; the dog, unleashed, sniffed around close by. With her hatted head down and her motionless figure concealed by thick winter clothing (the weather here seems to be having a little difficulty keeping up with the seasons), a first impression could scarcely have been less striking.
With no thing or person to obscure my view of the mystery female, I continued to cast the odd casual glance at her as I drew nearer, fully expecting her to pay me no heed. At the very last second, however, she lifted her head, and I discovered, much to surprise, that she was incredibly pretty. The first thing I noticed was the fact that she was smiling; most striking, however, were her eyes, which seemed to me as bright and as blue as I’d ever seen. Needless to say, I was taken aback. So much so, in fact, that the ostensibly simple task which common courtesy demanded of me – that of reciprocating the smile – was beyond my capability, and I passed the poor woman wearing an expression which, if mind’s eye doesn’t deceive me, you seldom find outside an aquarium.
A few paces on and the urge to steal one last glance was irresistible – though not for the usual reason, if you catch my drift. I was looking for clues. Clues regarding her identity. One of those desperate, searching looks – as if, by some bizarre stroke of luck, her name and address might just happen to be pinned to her back! I need hardly tell you, reader, that in this respect I was disappointed.
For the next few minutes I was in a bit of a daze. In a busy place, amongst a crowd: OK, you’re expecting to see the odd good-looking gal. But when there’s hardly a soul around, for one of the handful of people you pass to be stunningly beautiful is a little bewildering. And it means more. Maybe that’s irrational – but it just does.
So of course I now can’t help but wonder how customary it is for this person to be seen walking her dog in that vicinity. Questions, question, questions. Does she live nearby? Seems likely enough. Does she pass this spot every day? Unlikely. Every week? Maybe. What day was it, anyway? Thursday? Yes, Thursday. But what time? Agh… Why didn’t you check? Fool! Six o’clock? No, a little later, I fancy. Half-past. Yes, something like that. What route did she/does she take? Had she come from town and was circling back on herself? Or had she come from the beach? And then the inevitable, more pragmatic questions. What does it matter? What am I going to do about it? Even if I did see her again, what, other than “hello”, could I, could anyone, say in such a scenario? “Cute Dog!” “Hey, I like yer hat!” “Do you walk here often?” No, no, no. I think not.
Of course, the most likely outcome is that I’ll never see her again. Not that I’m trying to sound melodramatic or anything: it’s just the way it goes. Particularly with good-looking people, it seems to me. They don’t hang around, do they. Or maybe it’s just that they don’t hang around me!
You know, I used to think that there weren’t many attractive young folk where I live. I’ve now come to the conclusion that there are: they’re just really fucking elusive! I’ll tell you what they’re like. Badgers. You know they’re there, and yet you hardly ever see them. Once in a blue moon, you might catch a fleeting glimpse of one – usually of their backend as they scurry down somebody’s driveway… Sorry, I’m talking about badgers now, you understand, not good-looking people – should have made that clear. Maybe I could use that as a conversation starter: “Do you know what you remind me of? I’ll give you a clue: they’re black and white…” Er – no.
Yes, elusive is what they are. Ugly people, on the other hand: can’t get away from ‘em! Popping up here, there and everywhere. Oh look, there’s that ugly person – again. And Oh look, there’s that guy with the face like a rabid chinchilla... With a face like a Mexican douche peddler. Like a demonic pony. With a face like a tearful handjob. Like a tainted mango. Like an all-you-can-eat zoo. Like a catastrophic fart. With a face like unending grief. Like a lovesick cobra. Like a graveside erection… A doomed picnic… A haunted seesaw… A cursed swimming hat. With a face like the Pope’s morning glory. Like a botched compliment. Like a furious possum… An infamous parsnip… A remote controlled git. With a face like a goblin orgy. Like an antique butt plug. Like… Well, you get the idea with that.
Tomorrow is Thursday. Will she be there again? Will I be there again? And one final question: Who gives a damn?!
Not to be continued…
