The Girl in the Houndstooth Hat

I want to begin by commenting on my own vanity and profanity as both are in apposition to what I hope to write. I posted on here about two hours ago and so far I have received one like, four follows, nine comments and at least three 'you twat's. I cannot pretend the attention feels really good and I just wanted to admit that.

On the subject of profanity I come from a swearing family and coupled with a little vanity, natch, I like using expletives to make my point. I hope I do not offend any one and so far all seems sweet.

Actually, it feels fucking great. It took a little time to build up to posting and I now realise I was a twat for not doing it sooner.

So, vanity and profanity. Well, I met this girl..............

It's vanity that wants me to tell you all how I pulled this absolute corker, just before Christmas. It was a party, I was on form and getting a bit of attention from various places and it was feeling good. I knew I had pulled the Seven, had a few others in reserve and then there was the Eleven and Half in the houndstooth hat.

I hate themed events and was not intending attending even before I had discovered the party, which was a 40th birthday, was going under the title 'My Checkered Past'. I was only there because a couple of mates came round and forced me into a pair of Rupert Bear trousers and offered to be on my wing for the evening. As I specialise in shame and self-loathing I tend to avoid social situations but given the reassurance that with my colourful history I would likely be 'guest of honour' I hopped in the cab and went.

Turning up with a good looking girl on each arm was doubtless a good start and I was loving getting a bit of attention. 11&1/2 wafted by occasionally but I was committed to the real work of grabbing the consolation prize lower down the scale and did not even really notice her other than to think she was certainly out of my league.

We did exchange a few words but upon her opening her mouth and with the cut glass accent of her Oxbridge education and the alabaster complexion of her blue blooded DNA confirming to me that this Ivy Leaguer was well beyond my reach I stayed focused on the middle ground.

She went home at some point and the hostess came up to tell me that there had been some interest in humble old me from special old her and knowing that, even before my vanity would let me go there, I was precluded from even entering the fray I just kept my eyes on the more tepid hottie in red who had a sweet smile and moved well on the dance floor. She seemed to welcome the idea that I might be nailing her in a few hours as we flashed irregular glances at each other across the melee.

It was only when I decided to close in that the hostess helpfully came along and made sure that little red dress and I would be going home separately that I decided it was time to grab my coat and return home with a moderate sense of achievement. I mean some attention is better than none and as I'm a fucked up dude with a mess of a life it had all been a pleasant distraction from la quotidienne, and its usual serving of disappointments that penury and failure in business sign post. With little more to look forward to than some gentle onanism at home I readied myself for my taxi when the hostess, whose cheek I was kissing goodbye, tells me the 11 & 1/2 had been asking who I was and again asked did I like her.

Room for some vanity but knowing my limits I just confirmed that she was of course lovely but quite beyond my limited horizons and truthfully played the humility card as I headed for the door. 'She likes you, call her', she urged, 'just don't be needy' she added as she let me know that she had sent me 11 & 1/2's contact details by text. My mobile did not need to be on vibrate as the significance of this tip off stirred inside me.

When I got home I even winked a knowing smile at myself before tap dancing my way upstairs to begin performing a familiar self-gratification ceremony on myself, albeit with more gusto than usual, and falling asleep.

The next day was slightly haunted by this new text message taking up residence on my screen but I resisted all urges to do anything and tried to re-inhabit the familiar comfort zone that failure in life demands. I eat cold food from a can, drank cheap wine and pushed myself towards Monday with wistful but comfortingly familiar resignation.

Unemployment presents a great deal of opportunity for idle hands though and by the following day I was possessed by intrigue and to save you the trouble of wading through too many pages of waffle I alighted on the text message again and opting to call the landline, as it was a Monday and I would be certain just to hear her answering message, and not have to speak to her, I called the number.

Sure enough my stalking instincts were correct as I heard the click and her mellifluous tones delivered the sorry, not at home recording to my satisfaction. The honeyed voice was even more irresistible as when she intoned my imagination was alive with boarding schools, country houses and Bollinger as I began to re-enter the movie and fade into soft focus. Energised by fantasy and playing the theme tune I called back and listened again, yet even stirred by the aphorism repeating in my ear that the posher they are, usually the dirtier they are I decided finally to leave well alone and move on. I took my dog for a walk and returned to the mundane processes of eating badly and qoiffing more supermarket Rioja. Another crafty wank or two and it would be Tuesday.

Oh, vanity, vanity - you would just not leave me alone. Why me, why had she pinpointed me. Had she seen a spark that I had been trying to re-light vainly for years....never mind, she's too hot for you mate, move on.

Phew, that killed another hour in sober land and it must be time for lunch....cor, fuck me it's 2.30 and I'm absolutely Lee Marvin...better press send, have a bite and try and finish this off after I've eaten. I know you all know where this is going and yes, it's all true, every damn word and there is a point to all this in addition to my ego's urging to continue writing this down all down for the first time.



To be continued...................

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