In amongst all the misery we endure, there are a few humourous points.

Here’s one.

After being beaten emotionally senseless by Yula I kind’ve decided being single was probably a better idea. I mean, poking up one’s butt for the sole purpose of finding out how sharp the next rasp will be is a negative proposal.

So I had accepted a future of soleness. I’m pretty happy with my own company so it wasn’t such a hard choice.

But I hadn’t factored in the world of chance.

A bit of background.

About 30 years ago I wandered into an office. I was lost and looking for directions. A youngish (actually 2 years older than I) woman sat behind her corporate desk. In an instant of a look I knew this woman (Julie) was to be my wife. And she became so.

I had absolutely zero information upon which to make this judgement. I hadn’t even opened my mouth, nor she hers. It was just one of those events in life.

Twenty eight years later we separated but have remained great friends.

Meantime, Davey has done Yula. Ugh! Davey finds peace in singularity. Sure, he looks, and even does the odd date, but nar! Sorry. No magic.

Last week, Davey wandered into a shop, looking for a shirt. Boom! There’s five-foot nothing, Ms someone who had exactly the same affect as Julie had, so many years ago.

But being more than a bit gun-shy, Davey just walked away. Night after night, her face surfaces in his dreams.

Bugger this. I’m going back to propose (something).

So back I went. But she wasn’t there!!!

Next day.

I set about, lurking. Yup. I lurked. Pretending to be terribly interested in the offered product range.She wasn’t there!
Day one, I lurked. Day two I lurked. Day three I lurked.

All I could see in my imagination was this lovely face, the eyes, the lips, the twitch of the hip, the wicked tooshy.:–))

On day four of lurking a significantly overweight, obvious queen approached. I’d been noticed, you see…lurking.

‘Something we can do for you, deary?’ asked the sweaty, fat queen.

Gawd. I know it’s not PC to despise fat,sweaty, queens, but yuk!

Anyway, I managed to fabricate a story about how ‘some’ woman….can’t remeber exactly who. except she was kindv’e blah, blah, blah…and went on with a detailed description.

Said queen saw straight through me and said, ‘She’s gone, darling.’ The joy in his eyes, at seeing another halted in love was rather appalling.

She’s gone. Left the job. New staff have no idea on her whereabouts.

What do I do folks? I just know this lovely woman is my next soul-mate. But she’s gone!

As Alex Portnoy said, ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

David.