Two Men And Star Wars
Without Prejudice
How on earth do I get myself in these fixes ?
It seems all my adult life I have had to choose between two men who chase after me.
A pattern of sorts.
I look in the mirror at my older adult face and poke my tongue at my reflection, I also shrug and say
" Big Deal "
I can scrub up ok, go without makeup, o.k. But I prefer make up as I know psychologically a woman feels better with it on. Or as a girlfriend once said,
" You must wear lipstick after 30 as otherwise your lips just disappear."
And speaking of " musts ", I must colour my hair, I must do my nails and I must wear perfume. It makes me happy.
And it seems to be a rule that when you are most happy and content someone comes along in a
" when you least expect it " way.
Just recently I went to seek out some former neighbours of mine to wish them a Merry Christmas and take a card. I knew they were volunteers that served Breakfast on a Friday at a local church. So I did myself up, lipstick, gloss, mascara, perfume a pretty strapless dress as its Summer and the weather warrants loose cool clothing.
As soon as I walked into the " retreat" section of the church I saw a man look up and smile at me. I quickly walked past eyes avoiding his. I do this as its easier. Once you are past fifty you become invisible to younger males, men going through mid life crisis and pretty much the general population. So if someone glances at me I tend to think,
"What do you want ?"
The man that glanced at me this time, was in the company of an addict. If you wonder how I know what an addict looks like is that I have worked with them
They tend to wear big clothes, anoraks usually if they are " trainspotters", out of fashion jeans, white, almost, glow in the dark sneakers, are thin and have eyes that blaze with fury at their addiction or have watery eyes, rheumy, marked by alcohol abuse.
I tend to avoid these people as they can be very self involved and want to change but won't do the work that recovery involves. They tend to be very boring with their long litany of complaints, blame of every one except themselves and they tend to smell.
I don't avoid them to be heartless I just find them boring.
My former neighbours weren't there that day but I was invited to Breakfast anyway. I sought out a lady who was going to see Bill and Rose and handed her a card and she handed me bacon and eggs. I sat away from the two men at the other table and fell into conversation with members of the church.
I knew the man, the one that glanced, not the addict, would come and sit with me. He did within a minute or two. He sat opposite me and introduced himself even though I hadn't inquired. I was hungry and kept shovelling breakfast into my guzzling maw.
I thought that would put him off.
He rose up and came and sat next to me. A chat up at a church.
He was nice, a Missionary, Pastor at the church, helped out on all sorts of missions. Had been overseas, Africa and Bosnia, I think.i decided to be mindful and not dismiss this man as its been a long time since someone showed interest me as a woman. And I had made a promise that very morning that I wanted a " friend" over Summer.
Not a sexual friend but someone to enjoy Summer with. To go on a stinking hot day to the refrigerated coolness of the movies and see the new Star Wars movie. I adore Harrisin Ford.
Go swimming in the bay when it's been another stinking hot day and the water is like a warm bath, shot through with the heat of the day, small waves dancing on your toes like champagne and you watch as your toes disappear under the grainy sand under water, the bottom as clear as a bell.
Someone to go with to St Kilda on a Sunday afternoon, when the markets are open across the bridge and the cake shops windows are full of towering delights of cream and jam and look so much better than they taste. But a confection of pastry and strawberries and glaze does your head in and you buy one anyway.
I want to go to Wind In The Willows in the park and enjoy it with some small kids who will delight in it and Luna Park and at least one open air concert. And, and, and....
Eat fish and chips wrapped in paper, hot and crisp on a cooled off beach with seagulls chattering at you in the vain hope of getting just one crumb. Or a hot glutinous meat pie with tomato sauce that you just know is going to burn your mouth and probably your bare thigh as you try to gobble, nibble at the edges of it.
Burning hot meat and gravy in your lap is just about de rigeur to an Aussie, that and a lamington for afters and a glug of warm lemonade, drunk from the bottle and passed around after a wipe of the neck. And you must say, " No Cooties" as you pass it, even though it's American slang, and the line is pinched from Grease, the movie.
So I listened to this Man, and he enlightened me about all sorts of things. He also a writer, a storyteller, a widower, older than me. And as I listened I could imagine how my born again kid would delight in me having a Pastor for a partner slash friend, no sex please we are British.
He gave me a card and I gave him my number and he walked me to my car.
Nice.
So then after months and months of no contact a former old boyfriend texts me with a
" You are so cute"
I look down at my freckled legs, look in the mirror at my older face and think,
" What the hell ? "
Looks like I'm in for a great Summer after all.
How on earth do I get myself in these fixes ?
It seems all my adult life I have had to choose between two men who chase after me.
A pattern of sorts.
I look in the mirror at my older adult face and poke my tongue at my reflection, I also shrug and say
" Big Deal "
I can scrub up ok, go without makeup, o.k. But I prefer make up as I know psychologically a woman feels better with it on. Or as a girlfriend once said,
" You must wear lipstick after 30 as otherwise your lips just disappear."
And speaking of " musts ", I must colour my hair, I must do my nails and I must wear perfume. It makes me happy.
And it seems to be a rule that when you are most happy and content someone comes along in a
" when you least expect it " way.
Just recently I went to seek out some former neighbours of mine to wish them a Merry Christmas and take a card. I knew they were volunteers that served Breakfast on a Friday at a local church. So I did myself up, lipstick, gloss, mascara, perfume a pretty strapless dress as its Summer and the weather warrants loose cool clothing.
As soon as I walked into the " retreat" section of the church I saw a man look up and smile at me. I quickly walked past eyes avoiding his. I do this as its easier. Once you are past fifty you become invisible to younger males, men going through mid life crisis and pretty much the general population. So if someone glances at me I tend to think,
"What do you want ?"
The man that glanced at me this time, was in the company of an addict. If you wonder how I know what an addict looks like is that I have worked with them
They tend to wear big clothes, anoraks usually if they are " trainspotters", out of fashion jeans, white, almost, glow in the dark sneakers, are thin and have eyes that blaze with fury at their addiction or have watery eyes, rheumy, marked by alcohol abuse.
I tend to avoid these people as they can be very self involved and want to change but won't do the work that recovery involves. They tend to be very boring with their long litany of complaints, blame of every one except themselves and they tend to smell.
I don't avoid them to be heartless I just find them boring.
My former neighbours weren't there that day but I was invited to Breakfast anyway. I sought out a lady who was going to see Bill and Rose and handed her a card and she handed me bacon and eggs. I sat away from the two men at the other table and fell into conversation with members of the church.
I knew the man, the one that glanced, not the addict, would come and sit with me. He did within a minute or two. He sat opposite me and introduced himself even though I hadn't inquired. I was hungry and kept shovelling breakfast into my guzzling maw.
I thought that would put him off.
He rose up and came and sat next to me. A chat up at a church.
He was nice, a Missionary, Pastor at the church, helped out on all sorts of missions. Had been overseas, Africa and Bosnia, I think.i decided to be mindful and not dismiss this man as its been a long time since someone showed interest me as a woman. And I had made a promise that very morning that I wanted a " friend" over Summer.
Not a sexual friend but someone to enjoy Summer with. To go on a stinking hot day to the refrigerated coolness of the movies and see the new Star Wars movie. I adore Harrisin Ford.
Go swimming in the bay when it's been another stinking hot day and the water is like a warm bath, shot through with the heat of the day, small waves dancing on your toes like champagne and you watch as your toes disappear under the grainy sand under water, the bottom as clear as a bell.
Someone to go with to St Kilda on a Sunday afternoon, when the markets are open across the bridge and the cake shops windows are full of towering delights of cream and jam and look so much better than they taste. But a confection of pastry and strawberries and glaze does your head in and you buy one anyway.
I want to go to Wind In The Willows in the park and enjoy it with some small kids who will delight in it and Luna Park and at least one open air concert. And, and, and....
Eat fish and chips wrapped in paper, hot and crisp on a cooled off beach with seagulls chattering at you in the vain hope of getting just one crumb. Or a hot glutinous meat pie with tomato sauce that you just know is going to burn your mouth and probably your bare thigh as you try to gobble, nibble at the edges of it.
Burning hot meat and gravy in your lap is just about de rigeur to an Aussie, that and a lamington for afters and a glug of warm lemonade, drunk from the bottle and passed around after a wipe of the neck. And you must say, " No Cooties" as you pass it, even though it's American slang, and the line is pinched from Grease, the movie.
So I listened to this Man, and he enlightened me about all sorts of things. He also a writer, a storyteller, a widower, older than me. And as I listened I could imagine how my born again kid would delight in me having a Pastor for a partner slash friend, no sex please we are British.
He gave me a card and I gave him my number and he walked me to my car.
Nice.
So then after months and months of no contact a former old boyfriend texts me with a
" You are so cute"
I look down at my freckled legs, look in the mirror at my older face and think,
" What the hell ? "
Looks like I'm in for a great Summer after all.
