Charmed and Dangerous?
I’m not bewitched. But I am bothered and bewildered…
Why? Remember those “other priorities” I now intend to focus
on; well somebody recently tried to sink my battleship on that one before I’ve
even had the chance to weigh anchor. Okay, so it was actually something of a
compliment that’s got me slightly ruffled, meaning maybe I’m overreacting; but
seeing as I’m really trying to drop my one trick pony status, such comments
aren’t particularly helpful.
I was at another wedding. Actually this time it was,
finally, Joe and Beatrice’s. Yep, at long last my bestest pal has tied the knot
with the beautiful girl he met on New Year’s Eve in Italy about five and a half
years ago. Don’t ask why it took them so long, especially since he pretty much
had her down as “the one” from the moment he saw her. Let’s just say, as the
bard would (and did), “the course of true love never did run smooth” and leave
it at that. I mean if you think I’m complicated, climb into Joe’s head
sometime.
Anyway, as opposed to others I’ve told you about, at this
ceremony I really was on my best behaviour, mainly because I was the Best Man.
I mean it was an honour and all that, and as BD naturally would have it I made
sure my hired suit had that touch of panache to outdo at least the ushers (if
not the groom himself), but I also knew that I was on public show here, meaning
any shenanigans of any kind with ANYONE would most certainly not have gone down
with either Joe’s side (after all they’re a respectable Domesday Book family)
or Beatrice’s (who’re also quite traditionally minded shall we say). Thus I
made sure I stayed off the alcohol (well it can be my Achilles Heel, as you may
recall), kept my Best Man’s speech as clean as I could (actually thanks to some
more BD bravado that went down a charm, I wasn’t nervous at all, something I
could never have pulled off years ago) and I did my duty by making sure I
danced with both the bride and groom’s mother. If there was any vulgarity, I
left it to our other pal Tony (who along with Joe’s and Beatrice’s brothers,
was one of the ushers) to fly the flag. Sadly he didn’t let us down on that
front!
For most of the reception I just hovered on the fringes of
revelry. It does make a difference when you’re “on show” I guess, and besides this
was more in keeping with my new leaf anyway. Not that I wasn’t enjoying myself,
plus it was great to see Joe finally hitched and thus achieve his heart’s
desire, which of course led me right back to those “other priorities” I keep
alluding to; I mean there were one or three younger (but older if you get me)
women there who did more than turn my head. But nothing was going to happen
here. I simply circumnavigated the dancefloor with a single glass of champers
in hand instead of prowling it, content to merely wiggle a bit to the beat
rather than indulge in a predatory grind.
Nonetheless it was that wiggle which started it. Well
actually, what started was an acknowledgement from, I think, one of Joe’s
distant relations; a most glamorous blue eyed platinum blonde, probably in her
fifties, who had one of those smiles that had probably been stopping traffic
for most of her adult life. It certainly stopped me. I flopped down next to her
at one of the now empty tables and together we made conversation as the music
played and dancing got wilder. Still, NOTHING was going to happen, even though
she had said, “You’ve got good hip action there. I used to be a dancer so I
know these things. Why aren’t you dancing?”
Well that wasn’t the compliment which has since so perturbed
me, although it does rather amuse me to be told I’ve got “good hip action” (I
mean I would never have put me down as having that, no matter what good BD has
done for me). But it did kickstart our chat. And I could see she was game,
there was a twinkle in her eyes, the kind where Joe might have warned, “You’ll
want to watch my second cousin x by the way, she’s a bit of a flirt…” etc. But
like I just said, NOTHING was going to happen here. I really couldn’t. Instead
I played coy, and maybe a bit shy, and purposely came across as more the me of
old, even if she insisted that I ought to go and grab one of those nice young
ladies who were frolicking partnerless and therefore needed a nice young man to
trip the light fantastic with; or was it really her who wanted to trip a
little, I couldn’t quite tell. And then, suddenly, she stopped all that, looked
at me very closely, those blue eyes not so much burning into me as instead
literally trying to translate me, and said rather mischievously, “You’re rather
dangerous aren’t you.”
Who me? Dangerous? Come off it. BD and all that he’s done
for me aside, no way!
I pressed her to explain. She didn’t at first, or couldn’t.
In fact she just repeated her observation. I necked the remnant of my champagne
and, letting the bubbles egg me on, pressed once more. But this former dancing
queen (who still had perfect legs I might add) just stonewalled me again. Okay
so now I was confused; and, somehow feeling I had to justify myself, replied
that “dangerous” was something I certainly hoped I wasn’t, at least not
intentionally, because in fact I was trying to leave that stuff behind. What I
wanted, I added, was something different now (something which, by the way, was
also stopping me from making any move on her too, despite the fact I was VERY
tempted, given her so “my typeness”). Sure I was no angel, I confessed
(alluding to some previous illicit flings here), but in truth such activity was
hopefully all in the past since it really was time for me to just “settle down”
like Joe instead.
She didn’t buy it. I mean yes she shared my goals, she said,
but that didn’t change anything. Fact was none of this was going to happen for
me, she prophesised, and instead I was doomed to share her fate. How so?
Because despite her own best intentions, she’d always lived pretty much as I
had begun to in more recent years; thus we were twin souls condemned to indulge
our predilections rather than our ideals. In other words, she concluded, she
was probably just as “dangerous” as I was.
Look, as I said earlier, I know she actually meant all this
“dangerous” stuff as a compliment, in her own way. Plus I’m certain we could
have spent an incredible night together too. And yet, wouldn’t that have simply
been a fulfilment of exactly what she’d predicted; because let’s be honest
here, given our supposed natures this was hardly going to go anywhere for
either of us beyond a hot shag was it? And I really do want more now; I have
those “other priorities” don’t I.
I mean surely I’m not too dangerous for them? Am I…
By Bastian Dash. Read more on TBWXtra on your personal home page
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