Something Sweet and Something Stupid

[smokingboot]

Yesterday was nice; got a big parcel from Mum, it's clear she's Ok in Spain. She got me funky things, a gold bag, a pink embroidered top, a blue and gold kaftan. Friends came round and we talked, we rescued a frog from Ralik...but best of all was the almost thunderstorm; Why is it that rain makes you feel clean in a way showers and baths don't?

London has been great, but apologies to chums I haven't managed to catch up with yet - the combination of work and heat has been very draining. Did gert to watch England's match of despair with fine hospitality plus sausages from colonel_maxim, caddyman and ellefurtle along with others whose names/lj monickers I don't know. There was walking barefoot through Regents Park and finding a fayre/fete, with loads of Indian stalls; I tried some grapefruit chutney, so salty and tart it made your mouth go :-* there was a little henna tattoo painted on with added gold and silver glitter. The glitter fell off later, but the smell of henna, clove and eucalyptus oil lingered as I wandered off up to Camden lock, met a friend from work, ate too much and got dizzy from the heat...there was the Crocodile Cafe in Muswell Hill with Diane sans lj, balmy hours of ranting about the Natwest, the BBC and other criminals. And of course, there was work.


Now, I honestly thought I had run the gamut of things that can go wrong in a tv studio, as there have been no major disasters recently, but this just shows how I under-rate myself; just because I haven't made any real screw-ups on screen doesn't mean I've lost my knack, oh no. When technical faux-pas let me down, I can always rely on social blunders.



So OK, into the studio walks one of the guys who works on the tech stuff, very young, very meeejaboy, a bit camp. With him is an older man, late 40s early 50s; extremely nice suit, big italianate pocket eyes and dark hair, elegant,urbane, handsome enough to set the whole station fluttering with interest. He's a catch and meeejaboy clearly knows it, bouncing around affectionately, fussing over the man. Man clocks me; I am wincing, cos I don't exactly look Italian designer, but it becomes very clear that the guy appreciates what he sees and I am quietly jubilant (Young boyfriend or not, you are checking me out! I don't even look good today whereas you are the hottest thing ever to walk into this place. I am totally win!)

Don't get me wrong, I am very happily attached, but who objects to be being found irrestistable by gorgeous specimens of the preferred gender? You are into me I find myself thinking, and any minute now, you are going to make a move. Sure enough, he comes over and starts a conversation which turns into just the kind of flirting I enjoy, light, fencing, and full of flattery.

Another lady chips into the conversation with a comment about how I have a partner 12 years younger than me. Cheers, pal, I think, there's never a baretta around when you need one The guy looks surprised and makes some comment about how strange that is (not the lack of baretta, the 12 year thing). Now, looking back I can see the backhanded compliment; maybe I look too young to be dating someone 12 years younger, maybe he thinks 12 years younger than me would make my partner 11 and a half. But all I thought was Hey, don't go all weird on me, your partner's barely out of goddamn playschool but I didn't say that. Instead, I looked across at meeejaboy pointedly, looked back at the man, and said archly 'There's a lot of it about.'

Man looked a bit confused at this. The conversation moves on but some spark has gone out of it, as I find myself thinking; You know, I'm not sure I like you, you're weird and judgemental and hypocritical too, I mean there's that poor guy leaping around you like a puppy and all you can do is come on to me in front of him too he must be feeling really shit andwhatmakesyouthinkyoucangetawaywiththiskindofthingjustbecauseyouregoodlookingandrichyouprobablythinkyouresomethingspecialyouprobablythinkyourebetterthanmecosIminjeansandyoureinasuityeahwellIvecomeacrossyourkindbeforethinkingyoucandoanythingkeepinghimonastringandthinkingyoucanhavemetoowellIdontneeditandIdon'tlikeitanditdoesntsendmesoyoucantakeyourmoneyandyourlooksandyourelegantconversationandLEAVEMETHEHELLALONE!

Now, I didn't say this. But when he invited me to dinner, I pointedly declined, smiling of course, but quite firmly. Clearly puzzled, he left the station with everyone gazing at the size of his car and waving goodbye.

'Goodbye [boot]' He said.
'Goodbye Mr [veryattractive]' I said with elegant coolness.
'Goodbye Dad!' chirrupped meeejaboy.

I kept my knuckle biting under control until I got to the loos. That's boot for you. Born smooooooth.

Comments

[neralet.livejournal.com]

lol - should have seen the "punchline" coming...but still - you made me smile at work (which normally requires me to be deleting something important and required). So thanks.

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

should have seen the "punchline" coming...

*puts head in hands* So should I!

Glad to make you smile:)

[wildwinter.livejournal.com]

*falls about laughing* Oh, wonderful. :-)

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

All I need now is to learn that he owns the studio or something...

[binidj.livejournal.com]

See what trouble an over-active internal monologue can get you into? Poor man ... he clearly needs a good Binidj to take care of him.

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

*grins* Yes, I think a good binidjing would sort him out proper.

As for my internal monologue, that's it, I'm switching the damn thing off!

[bytepilot.livejournal.com]

Dearest Boot,
You have _all_ the talent in this area.

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

Mine is indeed an awesome and uncanny power.