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You're growing on me like a wart

  Thu 28th September 2017

A "couple of drinks" after work with Karen.

After an hour or so, her boyfriend turned up. He bought me a drink, and we all sat in a line, resolutely ignoring any hint of awkwardness. A funeral plan salesman rang me up. I took him to the porch of The Shipbuilder's Arms where an Irishman was also loudly on the phone. "I'm pissed as a cunt," he said. "And you've got to turn up with your knickers on this time."

He passed the phone to me to tell his interlocutor where to find the pub he was going to next, all the time some poor minimum wage callcentre worker trying to interpose his questions.

"No," I said to the Irishman's friend. "You've got it right. It used to be called The Boar's Head but it's called Ruxton's now, or The Mad House as we call it. Yes, corner of Dalton Square. Also, love, you've got to turn up with your knickers on this time, 'cos I believe you've got previous in turning up knickerless." I gave him his phone back and he grasped my hand in a fracturing labourer's handshake.

"Is this going to take much longer?" I said to the callcentre bod. "It's just that I'm neglecting a younger woman in here." I put him off till tomorrow and went back to Karen.

Karen's boyfriend said he was leaving. "Alright, see you," she said. A minute later he came back when he realised that neither me nor Karen were shifting. The atmosphere was stiffening with his presence. He finished another pint, then stomped off definitively, saying "well, there's no point me being here is there?" Self-pity; attempted control; insecurity. Got you sussed mate.

Karen and I watched the door for a couple of minutes to make sure he had actually left, so that we could sigh.

Karen said about how she didn't like that he rarely texted her. I said that I like how she texts me every day asking how my day's been. "Helps that you're a right fittie of course." She clasped my hands in hers and said "you're growing on me like a wart."

"You know, looby. It's going to happen, isn't it?" our legs and arms touching now. "To be honest I didn't feel about you in that way at first, but we're getting closer now aren't we? And you know -- it's going to happen." I felt a mixture of disbelief and exultation.

She's got a travel agent friend who can get cheap holidays. "What would you say if I asked if you would be able to come to Tenerife or somewhere with me warm with me, say in November? I need a holiday." "I'd bite your hand off Karen! I'd love to!"

We walked to the bus stop arm-in-arm. We stopped and she kissed me, beautifully, wrapped round each other. We parted and she smiled, walked a yard away, then came back and kissed me again.

We're meeting again after work on Friday. "I'm going to wear my little skirt. Would you like that?"

This morning, she says that she's been dumped by text. "Told him that's fine by me! not even bothered any more"


That guy isn’t going to show up on your doorstep and open a can of whoop-ass, is he? Wendy who?

Thu 28th September 2017 @ 11:29 Reply to this comment
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

Don’t think he’d do that. It wouldn’t get Karen back.

And yes, it’s *so fucking obvious* but why have I spent years pursuing someone who isn’t available?

Thu 28th September 2017 @ 11:49 Reply to this comment
Comment from: kono [Visitor]

Well it seems at least one of the women you know has good taste in men… can’t deny chemistry and when it’s there it’s there, go on now you…

Thu 28th September 2017 @ 18:14 Reply to this comment
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

Thank you kono. I like how this has been a slow burner (and still is). I’ve done absolutely nothing to attract Karen at all. Nothing whatsoever, apart from bump into her in the pub through mutual acquaintances and gradually get talking to her with no expectations. I love both what is happening and how it has happened. Always leave it up to the woman. Women do the choosing, not us

Thu 28th September 2017 @ 22:14 Reply to this comment
Comment from: daisyfae [Visitor]

Very good news – although i’m a bit worried about that poor sod in the call centre.

Sun 1st October 2017 @ 17:21 Reply to this comment
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

Me too. I’ve worked in a call centre. It’s just horrible. I just hope we gave him one of the more interesting calls he’s had to make.

Sun 1st October 2017 @ 17:29 Reply to this comment

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

M / 56 / 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.

There are plenty of bastards who drink moderately. Of course, I don't consider them to be people. They are not our comrades.
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Tell me, why is it that even when we are enjoying music, for instance, or a beautiful evening, or a conversation in agreeable company, it all seems no more than a hint of some infinite felicity existing apart somewhere, rather than actual happiness – such, I mean, as we ourselves can really possess?
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