Men are like buses…
After recent experiences both on TBW and life in general I thought I’d share one of my favourite poems with you by Wendy Cope , and as far as I can see it couldn’t be more true.
Bloody men are like bloody buses -
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.
You look at them flashing their indicators,
Offering you a ride.
You’re trying to read the destinations;
You haven’t much time to decide.
If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you’ll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.
If we take the first stanza first, nothing could be truer. It’s about a year since I broke up with my Italian toy boy and apart from a brief sojourn with Mr. Nice Guy way back in April, there just hasn’t been anyone I fancy at all. Yes I‘ve been on the odd date but suddenly in the past few weeks all sorts of things have started to happen. Or as the poem says, men don’t come in ones or two’s, loads appear at once.
Men have been chatting me up at the gym, appearing from my distant past and inviting me on yachts in the Caribbean, and I’ve had a fair number of Toy Boy dates in the last few weeks. Which brings us to the next stanza, they are mostly flashing their indicators, ¾ offering me a ride, but what are the destinations?
Of the men appearing from my past, well one to be exact, I’m supposed to be going sailing with him on a 42ft boat, I can’t tell you where or when as its top secret . I’m wondering if I need a lock on my cabin door or if things get tricky do I just jump overboard and swim for it?
Of the TBW dates, only one of them has been gob smackingly gorgeous, the sort that will be fabulous whatever age he is. The good thing about him is that he is also educated funny good company, and doesn’t know how good looking he is. Maybe I’m too young for him though, as he kept saying how young at heart I seemed, how young I looked? Never thought it might be a problem before. Maybe he is too young for me, under the age of consent which is roughly 30 isn’t it? He’s still in the party and going out all night stage, presumably leaving a trail of women in his wake. I’d just like to take him sailing in the Caribbean on a boat without hitting shore for at least 6 months.
Well that’s not going to happen, which looks like I’m stuck with the last stanza, about to make a mistake and then have to wait for the beginning to happen all over again.
Oh dear why do we do it ladies
Victoria Mosley (Siren Song) has two collections of poetry available from Amazon .co.uk The Dry Season (1998) Crazy Love (2002) and a cd downloadable from www.gargeband.com/artist/sublimes . She is currently writing the third part of a series of novels The Angel Trilogy.
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