Too Sexy
Entry posted by caldrail
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Earlier today I saw a young woman ambling from shop to shop, dressed in her chosen summer wear, totally at a loss to comprehend why it wasn't baking hot under a blue sky. It was as if rainfall was an alien experience to her. So either she's a seductress from another planet sent here to spawn a new super-race with us lowly earth-beings, or she's suffering the same limited memory span that most of us do. Yes, dear, sometimes it rains. Even in Swindon.
As it happens I think the rain is long overdue. Sunny weather is great as long as it isn't too hot, but Britain was never designed to be tropical. We keep getting warnings about low water levels in reservoirs so any rain at all is a good thing, unless you happen to be living in one of the areas suffering flash floods because of it, which I imagine might well adjust opinions somewhat.
Thing is though - Whenever we get these sudden rainy days I invariably have to go somewhere and end up thoroughly drenched. Today is different. I've gone about my business and remained mildly damp. Perhaps this is a lucky day?
Now I've never considered myself particularly lucky. After all, I've never won more than forty pounds on the National Lottery since it started. Then I start to realise that I'm not missing any body parts. Neither have I ever suffered a bad car accident. Neither have I been savaged by a dog, sat in an airliner about to be used as a missile, kidnapped by somalian pirates, or abducted by a UFO.
Hi babe. Are you from Venus? Wanna share a Mars Bar? No? Oh well. Guess it isn't my lucky day after all.
Too Sexy For My Planet
Perhaps I should have checked my horoscope for the day. It says I shouldn't put myself down. Yes, I agree, that alien seductress has no idea what she's passed on. Or perhaps she does? Let's be positive. Perhaps I should have realised I'm too sexy for my planet? If only my horoscope had warned me...
It is a funny thing though. We blokes are supposed to make the first move by law. Failure to make the effort reduces your manliness to the point of verbal abuse from the male population of your area, even though most of them haven't done anything either and desperately want to avoid the same treatment. I've encountered this so many times in the past. If a woman gives off the signals, then it's mandatory to make at least some attempt to spawn a new super-race. Failing to notice is no excuse.
Of course a gentleman shouldn't tell. I usually remain silent about my love life though in my case that's enlightened self-interest. Husbands and boyfriends are notorious for violence when outraged. But, even in my poverty stricken middle age mediocrity, there are still contenders for that coveted scratch on the bedpost.
Contender No1 - This is the one I've known for longest, though so far we meet infrequently. She's a busy lady, always doing something interesting that you hadn't expected, and I'll be honest, she is jolly attractive. I suspect she isn't difficult to please, but difficult to keep interested nonetheless.
Contender No2 - This young lady sets off car alarms as she walks past. Don't get me wrong, she's got style, class, and is wonderfully understated. She's also the most intelligent of them and I think she's already cottoned on to what I'm after. Chances are she's already reading this right now.
Contender No3 - A recent entry to this competition. Not especially pretty but plenty of character. She smoulders, she really does. In a way this one is like plastic explosives. Safe to handle provided you don't detonate her. There's something primeval about playing with fire, isn't there? It's the thrill factor.
Contender No4 - Of the four, the most obviously sweet and innocent. I don't think under normal circumstances she would bother with me at all, but we keep catching each others eyes. So far it hasn't provoked a socially awkward situation. As a bloke, the pressure is on to provoke one.
There you have it. The horoscope said I shouldn't put myself down, so I've given the world a little insight into the steamy sex secrets of Rushey Platt. Now you know I'm not gay. Okay? Now if only that mouthy idiot in the newsagent would learn to read, he'd know too.
Oh. I forgot. Contender No5. Alien seductress who doesn't like Mars Bars. But like The Apprentice, there can only be one winner. Lady - you're dumped.
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