Well today is the first day of the rest of my life. In retrospect if this is what the rest of my life is going to be like then please let me be reincarnated as a goldfish. A wise woman, or drunken friend, once told me that goldfish have the memory span of three seconds. Sounds like bliss to me.
After three years in a relationship that could best be described as a soap opera that should have been canned after the pilot, I was ready for something and somebody new.
I have joined a Dating agency. The agency assured me that Shane was the cream of the crop on their books. Employed, handsome, self confident and intelligent. What more could a girl ask for?
I spent three hours trying on outfits in the attempt to look like the self-assured person I had portrayed myself to be in my profile with the agency. After redoing my makeup three times until I achieved that perfect “it doesn’t look like I am wearing makeup” natural look, I finally settled on the original dress that I had tried on.
I had arranged to meet Shane at a café where I knew the waitress, Andrea, so that I could get a second opinion if necessary.
Typical of me in my nervous state, I arrived twenty minutes too early and downed two cappuccinos and four ciggies before Shane was due to arrive. That anxious “Is that him?” feeling every time a man walked within a two block radius of the café made me realise it would have been a good idea to have some signal as to who I was looking for. The old red rose in the lapel didn’t sound so ridiculous right now. After squashing the idea of writing a sign “Here I am” and placing it around my neck, I spotted who I presumed was, yet prayed wasn’t, my blind date. Much to my chagrin my “please don’t be him” pleas to the universe went unanswered as Shane approached the table.
“Oh hi. You’re Lucy are ya?” he grunted.
Standing before me was the incarnation of Norm from the Life. Be in it! Ads I had grown up with, right down to the Stubbies, thongs and beer belly. His yellow polo shirt had a nasty big stain in the centre that looked suspiciously like a ring of tomato sauce and gave the appearance that his beer belly doubled as a coffee table when he was sitting down. Under the arms of his shirt were the marks of well-worn sweat stains, which had the added bonus of exuding an extremely pungent odour.
I stood up and forced a smile, secretly cursing my mother for teaching me to be polite. He held out a sweaty, grease stained hand for me to shake. I was horrified to hear the stain under his pit crackle as though it had hardened from neglect of a washing machine. After a moment of panic at the thought of actually shaking his hand, I rushed at it and gave one quick shake and let go. Just like a band-aid. Do it quickly and you don’t feel a thing. Well almost.
“Spose I’ll get us a coffee then, aye,” he mumbled.
“That would be lovely, thanks,” I replied horrified that my voice had become a high-pitched imitation of Minnie Mouse.
As he wobbled off to the counter, I tried to think of an excuse to leave. Once again the thought of being impolite outweighed the possibilities of freedom. Damn those good manners. I was going to have a serious talking to to my mother.
Andrea was giving me a horrified look from the counter and it was then I realised I should have worked out an S.O.S code with her in case of an emergency such as this. Then considering all I could think of was “The red fox has flown the coop” it wouldn’t have done much good. Trying to work that into a sentence would have been a challenge even on my most creative of days.
A sudden explosion from the counter interrupted my train of thought. I looked up to see Shane waving his hand back and forth in front of his backside and laughing raucously. Andrea had paled to a light pastel green. He had actually broken wind?
Wind! It suddenly hit me that I was quite possibly sitting down wind from the vacant seat at the table. I had to be sure but discreet. In my best undercover, sneaky way I licked my finger and stuck it in the air. Yep, definitely down wind. All it would take is one big gust of wind and I could be knocked unconscious from his stench. Losing my need for discretion, I grabbed my bag from under my chair and went to move seats just as he reached the table with the coffees and sat exactly where I knew I was in the most danger of gaseous fallout.
He looked at me, then the handbag and grunted, “Don’t spose ya got a fag in there have ya?”
“Sure,” I said and got the packet out of my bag. At least the smell of cigarettes could mask the smell of his pits a little. He grabbed a smoke quickly.
“You goin’ out or somethin’?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well ya dressed up. You goin’ out?”
“Umm, no”. Damn hindsight. I should have said Yes and given myself an excuse to leave. I mentally kicked myself under the table.
“Right. Well what ya wanna know?” he mumbled while scratching inside his ear with my lighter. I tried desperately to remember his profile. It was getting extremely difficult to picture the person on paper was the same as the person in front of me. Maybe the agency had mixed up the paperwork. I tried to envision the profile. Work? Ok, he had answered merchant marine. There’s a start.
“So what exactly do you do as a merchant marine?”
“Nuthin’ yet. I sent in an application for ‘em but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“Ok that’s exciting. How long have you been waiting?”
“’Bout 8 months now”
“Oh ok. So what made you decide to join the marines?”
“Something to do. I like going out in me boat.”
“Oh wow, you have a boat. What kind?”
“A tinny.”
“Ok.” I was grasping at straws for something to say. ”So what do you do for work at the moment then?”
“Nuthin’ I am on compo.” He grabbed another cigarette from my packet and lit it off the butt of his last one. “Was good. That’s how I got me house.”
“Oh, that’s great. You have your own place. So you live alone then?”
“Nah me mum lives with me.”
“Oh, is she not well?” With this, I got a look that basically said I must be the dumbest woman on the face of the earth. Ok is it ludicrous to think that a 37-year-old man would only still live with a parent if he was looking after them? No one would live with their parents at that age as a lifestyle choice would they? I guess they would.
I realised that he had been talking about his mother and I hadn’t heard a word. I turned my attention back in time to hear “helps me out around the house.” - obviously not with the washing machine.
He took a slurp of his coffee and missed his mouth. I watched as it trickled down to form a line in the centre of the tomato sauce stain creating a bizarre crop circle configuration on the front of his yellow polo shirt. I had visions of Pro Hart being greatly inspired by the artwork Shane was creating before my very eyes.
He drained the rest of the cup, wiped the froth from his mouth with his hand, and then wiped his hand on the side of his Stubbies next to a previously unnoticed greasy handprint.
“Spose you want another?” he asked unenthusiastically.
“No, I am fine thanks,” I said, probably a little too enthusiastically.
“Going for a leak.” He got up and sauntered off to the men’s room. As soon as he was out of sight, I madly beckoned for Andrea. As she rushed over, I grabbed the notebook and pen from her and scribbled down my mobile number. Looking anxiously at the men’s room door as I wrote and talking in my best undercover voice.
“When he gets back, ring me. When I answer you can hang up ok?”
“Ok Ok.” She looked a little too excited at being involved in my scheme, but I figured beggars couldn’t be choosers. There wasn’t anyway she could stuff it up. She left just as Shane came out of the toilets. I found myself wondering if he even bothered to wash his hands.
He sat down and grabbed another smoke. “So what about you? You got a kid right?” he asked. His disinterest astounded me. Why wasn’t my mobile ringing? It was time to think on my feet.
“Oh did my profile say one child? I actually have four.”
“Four?” Was that shock or fear I saw on his face? “Where’s their Dad?”
“Dad’s. Plural. They aren’t around. I am really looking for a replacement father for them. They are too much for me too handle on my own. JJ, my oldest hasn’t been the same since he got out of juvie.” Ring phone ring.
“They are all boys too. I really want a girl. Won’t stop having babies until I get my girl. How do you feel about kids?”
“Yeah want a football team of me own.” He smiled, and I instantly wished he hadn’t. His teeth were a disgusting mix of brown, black and green. My scare tactics were backfiring.
Suddenly I felt a vibration on my foot. My mobile. I glanced up to see Andrea waving madly. Saved by the ring tone.
“Hello… Oh yes this is JJ’s Mum…. What again…ok…I’ll be there as soon as I can…Maroochydore Station…On my way.” I took a breath and put on what I hoped was my most concerned and frantic parent face.
“So sorry Shane. JJ’s been picked up driving a stolen car again. I have to go.”
“Oh ok,” He looked almost disappointed.
“Well, lovely to meet you.” I nearly choked on the words. As I turned to leave, I gave a conspiratory wink to Andrea and then thought I may as well go for broke. “I’ll call you sometime.”
With that I walked away feeling the air become lighter and more sweet smelling with every step.
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