Built on shifting sands

Singing in the shower, providing a running commentary whist making breakfast, talking into the mirror, these are things that I don't do, never have and never...oh, shit I did this morning.  Well why?  I awoke alone didn't I?  Didn't get lucky?  Taxi for one?  Well yes this is true, but something was different this time, I felt alive.  They say a lot can happen in 24 hours and it can, except in my case it was 3 hours, more like 30 minutes actually, well to be pedantic about it was 30 seconds, the half a minute in which Sue's leg snaked up my calf like a hungry Anaconda.  In that moment I became wanted, sought after material, not the washed up shirt wearing mothball which I feel I am.  In that moment I had two women, in one room, both desiring my touch.  For me, this is the ordinary man's Hollywood, glamour at its best.  There wasn't paparazzi outside my window lets just be clear on that, nor have I received any offers from Hello magazine, but for me I was James Dean, and my Ford Focus?  Well that was a Rolls, of course, what else would a Playboy drive?  I know I'm being consumed by fantasy and I have often resented my long hours of daydreaming that led to optimism only to be crushed by reality, but I'm learning now that fantasy is a rehearsal for life.

I've decided its my time to learn an instrument, sick of being the wallflower I'm going to be the one plucking the strings, these two women will combine as one to become my fiddle, and I shall play them appropriately.  I will need a music lesson though, some advice on life from an eternal womaniser friend of mine, I'll meet Steve later today.

You wait ages for a bus, then...

What I find surprising in life is the hidden face of desire that seems only to emerge when one is engaging in activities with another, meaning that, by 'coincidence', Sue was at the George and Dragon, my local pub, when I took Cindy there last Friday.  All seemed to be going well, I got my seat near the blazing fire, threw a lump of wood on as soon as I got there, and within minutes Cindy was stripping off.  Well, removing her cardigan, revealing a voluptuous cleavage which I furtively admired when sipping my pint.  I also noticed that I could stare at her breasts by spying her reflection in the window opposite, but it wasn't great and I didn't want her to think I was staring into space, bored of her tales about her kitten, which I was.  My carefully planned night of conversation topics, memorised beforehand, was working brilliantly, there were few awkward silences and my mind started to free up, I unwittingly found myself producing spontaneous conversation, with even the odd joke thrown in for good measure.

Enter Sue, who seemed far too flabbergasted to be true to see us, with Bill, her husband.  I felt a wave of panic, induced by an uncomfortable sensation that my night had been irreversibly interrupted.  This was confirmed in a whirlwind of activity that seemed to pass in a millisecond, in the midst of 'Hi' 'nice to see you' I found that two had became four and Sue was sat opposite me.  Bill, the bastard, was milking my hard work with a front row seat in front of a semi-naked pair of breasts, I couldn't even see Cindy's reflection anymore either.

My mind was totally distracted, thrown into turmoil, what was she doing?  Was she out to sabotage my date night?  It certainly seemed like it when she started raising uncomfortable issues from my past, like my ex, too much information for Cindy's virginal ears.  Bill looked like a confused child, out of place and longing to get away.  Concentrating on directing the conversation onto more generic matters, such as weather, I lost sight of how bored Cindy had become.  I was only aware of this when she suddenly 'remembered' she had to pick her kitten up from her sisters who was looking after it.  That had to be a lie to get out of the situation, yet she did seem very passionate about her kitten, it's a small glimmer of hope to pathetically cling onto.

When Cindy left to go to the toilet my left leg suddenly felt like it was being humped by a randy dog on heat, I widened my eyes to see a sultry stare coming back at me, consumed with some App on his Iphone, Bill was oblivious to the potential extramarital affair brewing only a couple of feet away from him.  This is something I could not have foreseen, nor did I expect to get a text message later that night from Sue asking me to meet her after work tomorrow.  In a string of surprises I also got a text from Cindy saying she had a lovely night, and wants to meet again.  It would seem as though Casanova now has a new rival, but at this moment in time I still have my porn DVD and the Internet.  Going to work now has much more of an edge, I'm actually looking forward to it!

The foundations of a plan are in well laid precautions

When I said I hope it doesn't spread like wildfire I didn't expect it too, however after opening the door to work today I became educated in what a backdraft is.  My very being in the room was like oxygen to a smoldering mess of embers, all ready to fire off questions like a loaded shotgun.  It wasn't like a red carpet event, I wasn't the toast of the town, more the subject of incredulous looks and glares, sarcastic calls of Romeo echoed throughout.  Believe it or not I didn't mind, the numbness of work  often leads to excessive interest in gossip and if they have nothing else to talk/think about then I'm happy to provide them with some food for thought.  The reason this has generated so much interest is that my actions are out of character, never in my eight sad years there have I successfully hit on someone.  I even think Sue from accounts is a bit jealous, I over heard her talking to Phil in the kitchen about how she thinks Cindy is fake, dipsy and all hairspray.  I'm growing in confidence just thinking about this, has Sue always fancied me a bit?  Who knows, but some harmless flirting to test the water might be a good idea.  Thinking about it she is married though, and for ten years I think, yet this could simply mean she's bored, ready for a new exercise, not going to waste too much brain power on this one though, got tomorrow night to think of.

There's a local pub/restaurant near to where I live, it has a charming open fire place, romantic?  Sure it is, and I'm going to strategically place her so close to it she'll have to shed layers, which is genius considering she will already be removing her clothes before shes even had a drink.  Downside is that should she only have one layer on in the first place then she'll have to sweat it out like a pig, which is amusing me already, she's probably too polite to ask to move tables.

I've taken all necessary precautions, washed my bed sheets, removed the crusty cum filled sock from under my mattress, taken the mouldy tea cup out of my room and most importantly ejected the porn disk from the DVD player.  I don't want any slip-ups should she be brave enough to accept the world's most famous and renowned euphemism, 'coffee' at the end of the night.  I, like all other men, will naturally assume she has taken her necessary precautions by swallowing the magic pill.  Tomorrow night is date night...

(Note from Mr Pensive, if anyone from the USA reads this then can you get in touch with him?)

A spring tide

Its been a long time since I asked anyone out on a date, and even longer since I've been on one, I'm fully aware of how this fact broadcasts my incompetence in the chat-up line department.  However sometimes the tide begins to turn, we're not always being washed out to sea, moreover on occasions we're swept inwards riding a tsunami, O.K that might be going over the top but what I'm trying to say is Cindy accepted my offer for a drink, although what I meant by that was drinks, plenty of them, getting totally inhibriated making it much easier for myself to seduce the imbibed back to my place.  It's hardly cunning, and I don't feel like Bond here, I'm pretty sure that in today's society a drink means drinks to everyone, who stops at one?

I have one full day to plan, as the date is Friday night, finally I can be one of these morons who claim to 'get the Friday feeling'  something I've never really understood, more questioned its very existance, I could be wrong though, I'll know on Friday.  As a social retard I have two key problems to address, firstly, where on Earth do I take her? Do I even 'take' her or do we meet? Do I pay? Or do modern day women now find it offensive when a man produces his plastic?  Oh God, this is worse than I thought.  So, secondly, what am I going to talk about?  I'm worried my brain will freeze over like an ice age, and my lips will tighten like a noose.  Not to worry too much, I have a plan, every man should have a plan.  I'll read up on current affairs, buy The Independant, scour the Internet, become fully versed with TV soaps and, most importantly, be knowledgeable on reality TV, I hate it but it's taken over the world.

More updates on this matter to come, hope its not spread like an Australian wildfire around the office yet...

TV, work and dating

Right, Where have I been? Missed a day, far too busy plotting machiavellian plans to overthrow my boss, take over the world and bring down BBC3, the later being of most importance.  What is it with programmes about teenage girls, pregnancy, stupidity and living off 'mum', mum in quotation marks as I assume its more a euphemism for The State.  As shit as it is I find the whole thing painfully addicitve, which I'm not proud of and hate to admit.

So my days this week at work have been somewhat dull, I've been constantly harassed by this Jordie sounding knobhead from Milton Keynes whos tenacious ability to secure, as he puts it, 'his business' which it isn't, (pathetically egotistical) the cheapest possible price for steel really annoying.  Its these kind of thing which really begin to grate on one's sole when his intrusion into my life via phone and email becomes twice hourly.  If there's ever a business trip to meet the clients, and he's there I may not be reponsible for my actions.  Let it been known that I am not capable of restraining my bellligerent thoughts, good to get that out of the way.  Plus as its now here in writing I can refer back to it, should it be needed in court.

I'm actually proud to report a small nugget of reasonably good news.  I have acquired the knowledge of the name of the new chubby woman, my new bit of eye candy, my possible bed partner for a lonely friday night, it's Cindy.  Possibly the world's most tacky name, in my opinion: it does rather conjour images of a synthetic human being, only being recognised as being 'real' by club membership cards to spay tan facitities and nail parlours.  But my preconceptions on this occasion are wrong, she's dull, drab, pastey and avoids mirrors more than the Elephant Man did, right up my street.  I'm going to ask her on a date tomorrow...

Shopping, On-line

Why don't I do all my shopping on-line?  In fact, to be more precise, why don't I do any shopping on-line? This trend seems to be sweeping past me like a bullet, apps, ipods, iphones, ipads, idontgiveashit, problem is that I do.  Anyway, back to my point, shopping.  It's the general public that make it so arduous, they're many in numbers and lacking grey matter.  Hobit looking ones, tall gaunt wastey pastey looking creatures all pushing prams, the next generation of buger flippers, I dont think I encountered anyone who buys a broadsheet, apart from one fellow, who I'm sure was reading the Economist in public as some form of affectation.

I'm so sure I saw the new woman from work, was too far away to make conversation, me being at the top of the escalator and her at the bottom with several people inbetween, this may possibly be my conversation opener on Monday, my way in, not ground-breaking I know but better than generic openers such as 'nice weekend'.

Well Sunday dinner tomorrow...

The funnel technique

I thought the the baby cycle was at A, the start of life and B, when we're old, wearing nappies and need help with going to the toilet, hopefully with Alzheimers so we don't really know someone on minimum wage is wiping our arse for us.  But I was wrong, today I was treated like an infant, a vulnerable child who needed carefully watching as I 'learnt' how to speak to people on the phone.  Of course there was a 'strategic' purpose to this, to 'funnel' information from prospective clients, and for this the compnay that pays me shit, paid consultant fees for some idiot to tells us this.  Is it any wonder I feel my life sprints past me in dog years when I'm there?

Well surprisingly there is a plus side to this, we have a new woman in the office, quite chubby looking but below average enough for me to feel in my comfort zone around her.  Not sure of her name yet, but I did spy the lack of a ring, I've decided this is an avenue to pursue, I'm no Romeo but I'm lacking a woman!  Trouble is I'm not spontaneous enough, I'm already thinking of strategies to get in her knickers, multi-layered, complex and difficult to execute..

Well it's the weekend tomorrow...

The day continues...

Ok, so what happened upon entering work, that gloomy prison, my own hospice?  I was greeted by Sue, 'Lovely day isn't it?' 'Yes' was my reply, a white lie, my first of many today.  Why do we need these generic questions?  To fill 'awkward' voids?  Because I like these moments, to me it only becomes awkward when people open their mouths to speak.  I had to wait till after lunch (one packet of custard creams & two cups of tea) to hear 'another day, another dollar' surprisingly not from Sue, but from Gareth, however he was talking to Sue so I'm noting her involvment in it.

By the way I work for a Steel company, I'll mention that now before any allusions of grandeur fill your imagination about me, I'm not at MI5 nor am I working at CERN looking under carpets, behind cupborads, or under the sofa for the Higgs Boson.  My life consists of 'stiving to obtain the best possible price for top quality steel for SMEs for production of various pieces of shit they wish to make form it'.  It's possibly the worst job for me as I tend to often converse with people, although it's over the phone, making it impossible for me to physically attack them.

Just leaving unhooking the shackles now, breaking away from this chain gang I'm supposed to call colleagues and off to home.  No doubt the near instantaneous power of microwaves will provide me with my nurishment for the evening, whilst I watch some pretentious prick on MasterChef tell me Organic is great, homecooking essential and fine dining is something I can only dream of. 

Training day at work tomorrow, on cold calling techniques.  Can't wait.

The day begins...

Footsteps, next-door neighbour's dog barking like a hound, waking me up.  Must be the postman.  Sure, the letter box has slapped shut.  Bills I assume, like always, why is it never the other way round, why do I never get cheques, or tax rebates, better still cold hard cash?  Maybe in a parallel universe they do, lucky bastards!  Right, into the shower then work, another day, another dollar, yawn, if Sue from accounts says that one more time i'll skin her cat, Spotty, that'll teach the optimistic bitch!