We met in mid-summer, our eyes locking on the other at a military do that was snaking into the cool depths of evening. I was new, he was a well-worn member of the crew and after serving me with my Coke - 'full fat or slender?' he asked, cheekily, came and stood at my table, cockily asking me who I was.
'Uh, I'm his friend,' I said, jerking my finger towards said friend who nodded. I guess, though my radar was operating low to the ground that day, that Said Friend had actually invited me down to be on his arm, not fall for this, for this ageing bus-boy with the denim-blue eyes but he took it well, shooting off to gas with his other friends. The empty seat next to me beckoned the first contact, the first conversation. Butts perched, glasses hedging the early bet of a fleeting contact, we introduced each other, preliminary demographics building up quickly to his theory on fear....
'You see, I've got a handle on my fears, I really have,' he said, glugging back his drink as I waited for elucidation. Glass banged back on table, hand smearing across his mouth.
'You've got heights - well, I did parachuting for that. Speaking in public - do presentations at work,' and just as I was about to write him off as bullish and quite frankly boring, he produced the killer line....'fear of being seen naked - well, taking off my clothes in front of women works well for me.' I know, I know, I'm gritting my teeth as I write this, but his eyes, people! They were cerrulean blue! He had a look (incisive, sideways) that cut my protestations dead! He had a spare fiver and bought me another whisky! This was, in short, folks, the closest thing I'd got to love (or a Meg Ryan movie) in quite some time.....the parting shot was a public kiss, lingering, deep, and quite possibly very embarrassing but those rose-tinted specs just won't come off......I needed to believe that, bad US positive pep-talk speak aside, he was nearing The
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