Gareth..........
where's my picture?.. well, that would be telling!
I had bought a ticket to a very fancy chi chi foo foo luncheon here in Port Douglas. But due to running round like a blue arsed fly arrived just after the race had finished and 4 hours after the actual luncheon had started! You know it's posh when you are sitting next to a man with a four door Ferrari (not that he told me.. but there was some mumblings from people querying this phenomenon of a Ferrari with four doors afterwards).
In retrospect to start drinking at 11.00am was a hell of a lot of pacing till 10.00pm.
So it was a bit more controllable to arrive at 2.30pm!
Managed to get ready in 10 minutes (eat your heart out all those men that say women take a long time!). Fascinator (now how did it get it's name?) on, high shoes on, lipstick applied, earrings in and that little black dress that had to cover a not so little body. So out with the corset.... the underwear that packs the meat into an inward curve rather than outward oscillations of undulating lard.
After chi chi foo foo Salsa Restaurant.. onward for more merrymaking at the Courty (The Courthouse Hotel/Bar).
You know the alcohol is having effect when out of the men's toilet walks a guy that I just had to say 'hello! to - enter Gareth'. Now there are not many men that turn my head at the moment - but his style and bearing and looks were right up my alley.
As my Dutch courage continues to get more nationalistic with each drink.... I would see him moving around the bar and we ended up chatting - or rather mutually just exclaiming to each other 'you are gorgeous' and 'you are gorgeous' stage. Him saying how firm my body looks .....(me thinks.. thank God for corset!)
He is English from within miles where I used to live in London. He has 47 acres about 20 minutes from here (I did mention 42 by mistake... .but he promptly corrected me!). Has horses and dogs and is a bookbinder by trade (but not much call for that in North Queensland) but works in Real Estate in the next town. His Father was a sculptor at St Martins.. my Mother was a sculptoress at Slade so we had much to talk about. He also quite obviously wore a wedding ring. So when I pointed this out he didn't deny it and said that his wife who was the first woman to cross Antarctica (or some such frozen wasteland) works away 5 days a week and they have an open relationship. Either the truth or a big lie.... but hey why go out with your wedding ring on if you are on the pull (which he obviously was as he had a hotel room in Port).
We did the touch feelly - caressing each others hands bit.. so all good... and the alcohol was kicking in (about this time I was on the tequila shots).
In the midst of our courting display a couple came up to me looking all awkward and then asked if I was Mini Driver - when I said in my very English accent that I wasn't - I am sure they weren't convinced.
Then a little while later another couple come up all awkward to Gareth and asked if he was Keith Urban (country singer and husband of Nicole Kidman).
Can just imagine the tabloids with that one - Keith Urban and Mini Driver seen drinking and caressing each other in a bar in Port Douglas!
Gareth and I happily wandered towards home.. he complained of being hungry so he grabbed a curry and all was boding well.
Got home .. Enter the sound of the proverbial screech of the needle across the record noise.
Suddenly realised I had to get the corset off, before I ended up with a Bridget Jones moment. So I hurry into the bathroom and stuff it into a cupboard.. by this time he has moved rather swiftly naked into my bed. I get to the bedroom and think... oh shit .. I can't do anything now but breathe in and whip my dress off... and dive hurriedly under the covers, before realisation sets in that those firm lines of my former body were as firm as his marriage vows!
The inevitable took place in a very perfunctory way. I could feel that something had fallen very flat - to the point that a certain member was having problems rising to the occasion, despite oral encouragement. Awfully I did do the ex comparison (who had a baby arm of a shlong) and found him wanting in the size arena and in the lovemaking stakes on all levels. Sure enough when the roll off happened he claimed he had a momentus migraine and wanted to leave! (Note to self - remember to buy Nurofen/Aspirin next shopping trip). "Eat my dust" - as Gareth left in a whirlwind.
Footnote: Got email from my ex 'S' today...
Haven't heard from you in a while. Was wondering if you were OK. I'm sure my last
email was not something you wanted to receive, but I needed to let you know. The last
thing I wanted to do was have our friendship fall apart. Like you said, my life has
been better with you in it as well. I hope we can still remain on good terms. You
aren't vindictive or hateful. I tried calling on Friday night. If you feel you can't
speak to me.....thats OK.
Speak soon and take care
XX
Oh dear - really don't know what to do - so in my usual way I have put my head in a
bucket of sand and tried to ignore it.
If I call him I am worried that I will make cyncial and bitter snidey digs. I was
thinking to try and talk like nothing had happened and 'that I don't really care' and
that I have moved on - but I don't know if I have the strength to manage this tactic
and instead of being the latter will revert to the former.
Thinking it might just be best to email him with a one liner like.. will be in contact
but at the moment having a bit of space might be a good idea.
MMmmmm - I'll keep my head in the bucket until something comes up!
No comments:
Post a Comment