Monday, December 11, 2006

The bus theory at Christmas



It is absolutely typical. You spend several hours at the bus stop (without a shelter) in the pouring rain waiting for your number to arrive.

Just when you reach the point where the rain eases off and you're about to walk, three of the buggers show up at once.

Everyone knows that this is the sort of theory when you can apply to other areas of life and indeed it has become common metaphorical parlance vis romance - to the point of being a cliche.
Nowhere has this been more evident than my office Christmas party. I was merry and able to talk to my friend Simon (I can deal with him quite easily now as a good pal, no alarms and no surprises) as well as dancing with my ladies.

Portia and I were both on good form in new stunning dresses and the moves - kind of like the macarena in incredibly beautiful but uncomfortable shoes. We were dancing on our merry way when my chum, foppish Phil, stumbled onto the dancefloor.

"Suzesh," he slurred. "I musht buy you a drink." I agreed on the terms I would buy him one back later and he brought me a dry white wine.

Two minutes later he swayed back towards us.

"Suzesh! I musht buy you a drink!"
"Erm I'm ok Phil," I replied. But again two minutes later he returned with another glass of wine.

This process repeated a total of six times, leaving a small cache of full glasses of white wine - untouched by me and my ladies.

And with the last glass Phil tried a drunken lunge in a clumsy attempt to kiss me. Still having my wits about me I managed to side-step and avoided an embarrassing scene by dashing to the lav.

On the way there another odd thing happened. Lovely Dave, who works in a different department to me, struck up an odd conversation. Now Lovely Dave is universally known as the office tart so I wasn't seriously interested, but his success with women is largely to do with his general cuteness and the fact he smells so damn good.

I wasn't surprised that as per usual he was incredibly fragrant - but was stunned when he started making the moves on me. Usually Lovely Dave clocks up his phenomenally high strike rate with tall blonde stunnas - something I am certainly not - and I have to say I was slightly tempted by the flattery and the wonderful aftershave.

But recalling my dignity I gave him a peck on the cheek, a cheeky wink and carried along my merry way.

Now the third bus arrived as I was chatting to other colleagues. It was strange really because it was a bus I didn't even realise was in service.

Michael is a very sweet boy- I say boy because he's just out of his teens and five years my junior. He's very sporty and in his own field he is a future world champion hope (and as a result has a 6ft toned body many women would kill to get with).

Despite his youth he's very popular with the ladies in the office - but he's never shown any interest in any of them - and I always thought of him as the boy Michael - just a baby.

I can't even remember how the conversation started, but it became a one hour, one man "how great is Suze" party. Little Michael wouldn't stop with the compliments. It seems he has been watching from afar - something I'd never imagined, never mind realised.

Now it's nice to see yourself reflected in someone else's eyes in that way, but I think everyone, especially Narcissus, realises the danger of looking too long into their own reflection for too long. You can quite easily get sucked under.

So without risking my dignity I thanked Little Michael for his sweet comments and went home. Alone, but with much boosted self esteem.


Suze x

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Good to see you back on form and using an excellent analogy- try these next:
1. You're at the bus stop but none of the buses are stopping; they're all just cruising by.
2. You're waiting, a bus arrives, but it's not going in the direction you want to go.
3. You're waiting, a bus arrives, but it's "Out of Service."
4. You're waiting, you see your bus, THE bus you've been specifically waiting for, but you see it driving, and stopping, on the other f*cking side of the street.
5. You eventually find out that the bus you're waiting for doesn't actually stop here.
6. You eventually find out that the route for your bus, and thereby that bus itself, no longer exists.
7. You can't even find the bus stop.
8. You catch a bus only to have it break down.
9. You catch a bus that's smelly and something-kind-of-funky unhygienic. You get off the bus diseased.
10. You catch a bus that ends up getting hijacked by a psycho with a bomb a la "Speed," and staying on that bus is pretty much going to lead you straight to your death but hell if you know how you're going to get off that bus. This one pretty much requires external intervention. Pray for Sandra Bullock to pull through and save the day.


just a thought

SM

Anonymous said...

Brilliant. Really made me smile; bringing back memories of many Christmas parties all those hundreds of years ago when i WAS YOUNG, FREE AND SINGLE. Every guy would always have mistletoe at the ready and it didnt matter if you were 16 0r 60 there would always be some drunken soul who'd make a play. Mind you it didnt seem to matter if they were 16 or 60 either. I remember my 65 year old boss (I was only 25 at the time) promising me promotion and a wage increase if he could have a quick grope behind the filing cabinet. I declined. Do guys still insist on photocopying their bums nowadays or has technology moved on? Have a great christmas.

Suzy Hepworth said...

Strandy,I am ever so worried about the bus service in your area - in particular service number nine....

Ruth - the photocopying has been curbed by big padlocks at our office - fortunately...