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Idealism

  Wed 13th June 2012

I walked down to the pub on the canal towpath to meet Trina, who lives on a houseboat a few miles away. We've only been emailing since Saturday but there's a bit of a running joke developing about Hegel, since the German Idealist girl-magnet makes an appearance on my dating profile. I said she could identify me by my copy of Charles Taylor's 'Hegel and Modern Society'.

She was sitting on a bench outside but didn't require any bookish assistance to spot me. Straight black shoulder length hair, and, as she said herself, "great tits." I sat down next to her and asked her what she was reading. It was The Colossus of Maroussi by Henry Miller. "Oh look at us," I said. "What a literary couple." "I wonder how Miller and Hegel would have got on," she said. I told her I'd read his Tropic of Cancer and we started talking about how feminists wouldn't like it.

"Some feminists are very intolerant," she said. "Yes, I know, but although there's lots of individual counterexamples, I still think feminism is something worth clinging on to. So get me a drink, bitch." I stood up and asked her what she'd like.

Three short hours passed, my only anxiety being to protect myself from any disappointment, since her voluble, unserious chat, and the way she looked, meant I was becoming attracted to her. She suggested a walk along the canal and we went a little way out of town then turned back on ourselves, past the pub.

"What shall we do now?" she said. "Well, I suppose you could come and have a cup of tea at my house. It's only ten minutes away." Just as I was to join her on the sofa, Neil phoned, inopportunely, about the Dickens event.

"Where are you?" he said. "At my house." "What are you doing this afternoon?" "I'm entertaining this bird I've just met on the internet." "Come back to bed," she shouted.

I put my arm round her and we began kissing. There wasn't much time before her bus, so we walked slowly to the bus stop, hand in hand, me hoping I wouldn't have to explain her to anyone I might bump into. We stood waiting together and and we kissed again and again as I raked my hands through her lovely black hair and around her ears and down her neck, keeping my hands reluctantly off her tits. "Eeeh... I haven't snogged in a bus shelter for a few years," she said. "Well, youngsters mustn't be allowed to monopolise the best pleasures," I said.

I waved her off and I walked into town to sit by myself with a quiet pint, to drink the afternoon in.

She emailed when she got in, and again before going to bed. A couple of lovely texts this morning. We've arranged to see each other again on Monday.

In the evening our wine club went round Alsace. I wanted to tell Clare and John about her, but managed to exercise a dignified restraint through the entire valley.

7 comments

SCORE!!!
About bloody time. I thought you were turning into an existential wimp.

Oh, sorry, maybe you always were an existential wimp.

No I’m not being nasty. just a shade jealous.

How many bloody women do you go through in a month?
10? 15? 20?

I just hope you’ve flung the non-paying tenant (Gael?) out of the flat.

Parasitic bitch.

Tell her so from me if you see her.

Wed 13th June 2012 @ 11:33
Comment from: Furtheron [Visitor]

Now Looby - relax about this one… take it easy, keep it simple don’t start going all “thinking” about it let it develop for a while…

Wed 13th June 2012 @ 11:40
Comment from: [Member]

“So get me a drink, bitch.” - made me snort! The old joke is:

Q: Excuse me, Ma’am. Where is the “Feminist Humour” section of your bookstore?

A: That’s not funny. [stomps off]

Nice to see she can take a joke. And apparently a bit of tongue!

Wed 13th June 2012 @ 12:18

Your posts have a cinematic quality, methinks.

What’s to explain? Why do you feel you’d owe anyone an explanation?

Restraint is the better part of valor. Or some such rubbish.

Wed 13th June 2012 @ 12:38
Comment from: isabelle [Visitor]

Your lovely day brought a smile to my face. House boats, lovely tits, Henry Miller and voluble unserious chat - a winning combination.

‘Everything is inherently contradictory’,I think Hegel said that. It sort of sums things up, don’t you think?

Wed 13th June 2012 @ 21:15
Comment from: nursemyra [Visitor]

Sounds very promising

Thu 14th June 2012 @ 10:06
Comment from: [Member]

In reverse order… Nursey: Thanks, we’ll see. I’m looking forward to Monday, and have told her so.

Isabelle: Funnily enough (hilarious in fact–tears were rolling down my face) I have been reading the bit in Taylor’s book where he does an admirable job of taking you through Hegel’s very challenging assertion about the equivalence of identity and non-identity, and his brand of anti-dualism.

But I liked Trina, regardless of whatever theory of the subject I might be using when I sit next to her.

UB: Thank you! And it’s just that it’s such a small city that a new hand-holder attracts a lot of attention. I’m as bad myself, asking people with a suggestively tilted head “Who was that then?”

DF: I’ve never heard that one before–and it *is* funny!

F: That’s good advice. I have never wanted to think too much in relationships but I have a tendency to analyse them to death.

TSB: The Gail problem rumbles on. I spoke to Kim about it as she works in housing. We’ll try a formal Notice to Quit first. In extremis, New Business Colleague could “encourage” her to leave.

Re dating, there aren’t really so many women around–the vast majority fizzle out, suddenly go silent, or endlessly postpone meeting up. Typically though, this week has brought a new flurry of interest from the World Wide Web of Women.

Thu 14th June 2012 @ 10:15


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looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person


M / 59 / Bristol, "the most beautiful, interesting and distinguished city in England" -- John Betjeman [1961, source eludes me].

"Looby is a left-wing intellectual who is obsessed with a) women's clothes and b) tits." -- Joy of Bex.

WLTM literate woman, 40-65. Must have nice tits, a PhD, and an mdma factory in the shed, although the first on its own will do in the short term.


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