Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Age Before Duty?

Sunday night I emailed The Blonde with the Butterfly Tattoo to tell her about the suit, wondering whether it would be her jaw or the back of her head that hit the floor in stunned amazement. As a lawyer, she always had to be well turned out for work, while I was dressed down at the animation studio.

Although I made an effort, she used to hint that I could make a bit more effort at times. I put up with the odd barb and she put up with me because the sex was really great.

In fact after we broke up she’d still come round for sex until I told her it was messing with my head. Then she’d come round for a bath and after five minutes soaking in the tub ask me to bring her a cup of tea. Cunning.

Still, it was better than when I met up with The One That Got Away, four years after we broke up. After a few meals out, she spent the night screwing me senseless. A week later an invitation to her wedding arrived in the post. Unsurprisingly I didn’t go.*

Within a couple of hours of me sending the email The Blonde sent back a reply. We’d only spoken or corresponded rarely over the past years. Suddenly she wanted to know what I was up to and whether, the next time she’s down in London for a conference, we could meet up. That seriously suits me.

She also asked me what I was doing for my birthday. Which was more of a surprise because she hadn’t sent a card or even mentioned it for quite a while. With everything going on I’d forgotten which darn day it was, especially since, with the folks halfway around the world on their second holiday of the year, I didn’t have my mum to call up and remind me.

Obviously the date bounced up in the paperwork today. And the old dear had got someone to post the card while they were away. Typically it rained all day. Having picked up the second season of The Outer Limits on DVD in a sale recently – I think it was a tenner – I came back and watched Demon With a Glass Hand while eating what was left from last night’s chicken stir-fry.


Living the high life. And because of the fill-in work keeping me busy, I didn’t get around to inviting that girl to jump naked out of a cake either. Damn.


*Maybe I should blog about the litany of twisted crash-and-burn relationships I’ve been involved in. That should fill up a good amount of space. But on second thoughts I don’t think I could afford everyone’s therapy bills.

6 Comments:

At 4:21 am, Blogger wcdixon said...

Sorry...I'm confused - should we be wishing you a happy birthday? (Cheers, if the case). Or cheering because you hooked up with the suited-up ex on/for your birthday? Hope it was a good one whatever it was.

Feel free to spill a bit about the ex's, but use some descretion and restraint...best to leave the past the past I always say.

 
At 7:18 am, Blogger potdoll said...

* yes do spill.
Happy Birthday past and present!

 
At 12:11 pm, Blogger Lee said...

Happy birthday (I think). Sorry to hear you've reached that age and place where you don't even notice your birthday has come and gone.

 
At 11:56 am, Blogger Riddley Walker said...

Hehehe, I reached the place where birthdays didn't matter or get noticed in passing when I was about nineteen...

That may have had something to do with being in a band and therefore out of my mind on drugs and booze, but I can't be sure... :-D

Hey GD, how about (seeing as both of our birthdays are in cold parts of the year), we bung up the big tent for a joint summer bash? Then you can have a real birthday, and an official one. Like Helen Mirren does.

 
At 7:01 pm, Blogger Terpsichore said...

Where the hell do you find all of these women, GD?!! Do they give lessons??!

 
At 8:58 pm, Blogger Good Dog said...

Thanks guys.

Will, yeah, I'm not sure I'm going to go back down that path. There some I can laugh at now while others, almost twenty years past, can still feel pretty raw.

Although I don't want to disappoint Dolly the voyeur who is probably jumping up and down shouting "Tell me all the lurid details!" Maybe there'll be something. But in a little while. Remind me if I take to long.

Terpsichore, I don't know where I find them. But thinking about what attracts me to them, or them to me for that matter, just gives me the shivers.

 

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