I remember a time in my first year of university; during the period of ‘not quite friends not quite more’ bout of mad and passionate er, kissing, with the boy who is now my boyfriend but wasn’t yet my boyfriend at that point; when I still reacted to the sight of my not-yet-then-boyfriend with a mixture of joy and elation, every time I saw him.
I remember seeing him across the road one morning particularly well, seeing he was carrying a tripod (ooh er) and walking alongside a funny looking bloke, I assessed the situation before yelling his name at the top of my voice and waving seductively. (Or that is, at least, how I prefer to remember it.)
Bounding toward him like a cocker spaniel on heat I threw caution to the wind as I darted across the road most famous for speeding in front of our uni, coming to a grinding halt in front of him simply to say hello.
His odd looking friend regarded me with a ‘who is this peculiar young pup’ sort of half grin half grimace as I babbled about nothing in particular before catching sight of my own tail out of the corner of my eye and becoming frenzied at the thought of catching it.
Well actually, I caught sight of Sainsburys and made a mad dash for food, but in fitting with my dog comparison…
I remember the situation well as one of the times I had accidentally made a fool out of myself in front of the boy whilst leading one of his nearest and dearest (although perhaps not very near and dear as it was the first time I had seen him) to think twice about approaching anyone with any familiarity to me ever again, just in case.
However, that night when I went to see him, marching into his bedroom with a sloppy grin and a not so sloppy kiss (like the brazen hussy I am) I was met with a smile and the following conversation;
“It was nice bumping into you earlier”
“Mmm hmm, my friend took a shine to you.”
“He DID? He looked at me funny… I assumed I’d frightened him”
“Yep. He said ‘I would’ when you left.”
“And you said?”
“And he said?”
“And you said?”
“This morning. Twice.”
“And he said?”
Throwing myself down onto his immaculately made bed in his far too tidy bedroom I asked sweetly for (demanded) a cup of tea while I contemplated this conversation with amusement, bemusement, and downright puzzlement.
After acting like a bunny boiler I had expected a negative reaction, but was met instead with the offer of potential sex. I wonder what would have happened if I’d actually put his pet rabbit in a pot, but gotten topless in the process?
“I’m going to cook him in a tomato sauce”
“Mmmm, I like that”
Maybe men secretly like crazy women?
When I was growing up one of my favourite films was ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days,’ the story of a girl writer tricking a boy advertiser into breaking up with her by acting as insane and available as is humanly possible, while he attempted to simultaneously trick her into falling in love with him.
Engaging in activities such as putting together a photo album of what she imagined their children would look like, and renaming his love rod Princess Sophia; the main character manages to make an eligible bachelor fall head over heels in love, rather than running scared.
Is this REALLY the way we keep a man?
Although not willing to try out my topless bunny death theory (and should point out that although my behaviour above constitutes a professional pet cooker, I am not actually psychotic), it does make you wonder what men will put up with for the glimpse of what they consider to be a piece of delectable eye candy.
I personally, as a female, would not be impressed if I walked in on a naked hunk of a man frying my beloved pet.
“I’m cooking her up for tea.”
“I’m calling the police”
“But I’m sexy!”
“Get out of my house.”
But hey, maybe that’s just me