So there I am flying this plane…
Yep, you heard right. Flying! I mean once upon a time I used BD to merely improve my golf swing, and then get me promoted. So on that front I remain convinced there’s no limit on what he can get me to do if I really what to do it, even as the markets continue to crumble around us. Okay I know I’m just personifying a few years of new found confidence here but I’ve decided, post butterfly, to stick with his sobriquet at least, even if his intent in regard to let’s say more personal matters, has supposedly altered.
So anyway, there I am flying this plane…
Actually to be fair I was only having a lesson, just to see what it was like; and truth be told I wasn’t allowed to do all that much flying myself by the instructor – although I still got in a roll or two as it were (and no this isn’t some Mile High Club anecdote by the way; you may or may not be surprised to learn that that’s one institution I haven’t yet had the privilege to join; and I’ve already told you the air hostess tale too).
Right then, so there I am sort of flying this plane…
We were on high over Essex, above its mustard fields, its towns, its roads and its rivers, with the seaside on the horizon and hardly a cloud for company. And you know, there was something just so metaphorical about rising above all those down below lives which naturally, once I’d settled into the experience and even earned some surprised praise for a couple of straightforward (well to a pilot that is ) manoeuvres, got me once again in reflective mode.
You see down there, down in my own down below life I’m still finding my way. Carving out this new path has not been easy, even though recent events have helped bluer skies chase away the grey somewhat. But don’t for one minute think that temptation isn’t still tugging at me from the shadows; that pesky little Bastian Dash Conscience Devil (who’s had this habit of leading me astray ever since I first went online) is back jabbing at me with his pitchfork in earnest. I figure though that’s because he knows I remain dead set on moving on.
Meaning he’s now started to play a little dirty!
Like how just when it seems I’ve got everything in perspective he has me stumble across a ballsy ex-client, now herself in need of a job, and hey (he whispers and nudges), she’s done something to her hair, and her eyes I never really noticed before are, wow, burning their way into my head (brown though this time, not green like the unsettling Dane’s), and you know we actually met over an informal coffee rather than at my offices and, having seen her CV, I never realised she was mid forties because she certainly doesn’t look it, in fact she’s hotter than hell and (he made me do it honest) I kept sneaking a glance at her tanned, toned legs, even as she was flirting with me, and maybe that was just because she wants me to find her job, but I’m biting nonetheless, and before long the old BD patter was tripping off the tongue (OUT damn BD Conscience Devil!) and we’re probably going to end up having a drink sometime soon because I’ve pretty much suggested it and hell, we’re also going to end up in bed too aren’t we.
And yes I’m sure it’s just another physical thing this time, that the chemistry is combustible yet fairly shallow, but, and here’s the thing, what if all that does happen and I then find out she really wants more/is looking for more and I, satiated, the male mist cleared, the pipes cleaned etc, don’t. You know when I first started with all these once longed for shenanigans, or rather after I chose my fate regarding Jane, I became fairly good at spotting the mutual no strings thing without the mindgames. I mean you’ve often heard me say as much here and elsewhere, haven’t you? And I’ve had my fun with that too – and, I guess, my fill of it as well.
I suppose that’s why suddenly this feels different. Why in fact I’m unsure. You see all I’ve lately been complaining about is what “I” didn’t want, that my indiscriminate flinging around with all those fabulous older women I’d met since Jane was getting me down because it wasn’t really what “I” was looking for. But thinking about it, was I really what they “weren’t” looking for either except in that “this is what it is” way? Was that “let’s quit while we’re ahead” shake hands moment really about neither party wanting to get involved, or was one side just protecting itself with a bit of clever front. Did I ever really bother to consider that? I mean I walked away from just that one married woman and felt all honourable about doing so, but what about all the others (hitched or otherwise) who I thought wanted less. Did they? After all, I bade Jane farewell by hiding who I really was. Maybe some did that with me too.
Well anyhow, that’s what was going through my head as I bumped across the odd thermal and climbed high over Clacton. Clear skies and a clearer head! I’ve already been soaring a tad too close to the sun down there in recent times, and had I continued, I’m pretty certain my own Icarus moment was not far off. So Bastian Dash Conscience Devil can leave off with his nasty little prodding and poking pitchfork. That client/candidate I’ve come across might be giving off signals of sorts, but am I really reading them right? Suddenly I can’t be totally certain. And if I’m not, I really shouldn’t, not at such a potentially vulnerable time for her, for me, heck for the lot of us! Plus I know what I want now don’t I. So no, I really really shouldn’t, I’m not that butterfly any more, I’m what comes next, that was new deal I made!
You know there was just a moment in that little Cessna when I thought why not just fly off into the wide blue yonder and leave all such insignificance behind. I mean being up there really did have such supremely peaceful appeal.
Still, now that I’m back on terra firma, maybe it’s just time to straighten up and fly right for real…
By Bastian Dash
