Something Odd Happens.
Are you a woman? Do you have breath-takingly low standards and want to know how to snare yourself a damaged ill-tempered skinny man who spends his down-time scowling at people on public transport? Then read on.
Tuesday evening. I’m on my way home from work but will be getting off the bus a few stops early to visit a hideous shopping centre to buy a cheap DVD player to replace the one that done broke and that. It’s a massive inconvenience and I’m tired.
I move toward the doors of the bus as it approaches the shopping-centre. Someone places their hand on my arm.
I don’t like people touching me at the best of times and this is the last place I expect such unwarranted intimacy. I flinch, jerk my arm away and stop just short of punching Captain Touchy square in the face.
Vaguely Familiar Woman: Hi!
Me: Err…
The bus has stopped and we go through the rigmarole of getting off, entering the hideous shopping emporium and side-stepping all the old people and ‘wheelchairs’ that always hold-up the normal pedestrian traffic in such places.
It’s all a bit disorientating and I’d already retreated into a private mental-place as I usually do when visiting this awful citadel-of-hatefulness so I now have to unexpectedly ‘snap out of it’.
VFW: [Beaming at me like I’ve known her for years despite my only slightly recognising her from somewhere or other] So! What you doing?
Me: Ah. DVD. Ehm. I mean. It broke. [Clears throat and pulls self together. Still a bit rattled about all the ‘touching’ business] I need to buy a new [actually, WHO THE FUCK IS THIS WOMAN?] DVD player, I had a box-set delivered and I’ve not been able to watch it – bit frustrating – so I’m ahhh…
VFW: [Astonishingly not losing interest] Ok. Well I just need to pick up some things from Boots The Chemists then I can give you a lift home.
Me: [Glancing behind me at the bus station] Urrr..
VFW: Oh I park the car here and get the bus to and from town.
Me: Ahhh…
VFW: Currys would be best. Or Argos. [Proceeds to give me in-depth directions ‘in case you get lost’ as I probably would]
VFW: I’ll just drop you a text when I’m done in Boots yeah?
Me: [Still massively befuddled. Who the fuck is this person? She does look familiar. And is quite pretty] Yeah.
I’ve said ‘yeah’ purely to end the conversation without really thinking about the consequences
VFW: What’s your number?
I see what she’s done now. And I’ve already said ‘yeah’. So I can’t not give her my number. And of course I now have to give her my name. Because it would now be ‘silly’ not to. She’s good.
Forty minutes later.
We’re now in her car approaching my street.
Me: Anywhere here is fine.
It’s far enough away from my house for her not to know exactly where I live. She stops the car, after a twenty minute journey during which she has acquired my life-story after a asking a few simple questions and making me feel so awkward that I cannot stop talking.
Me: Ah. So. Thanks for this. I must owe you a drink or something.
That’s something you just say isn’t it? No-one takes that as a commitment surely?
VFW: This Friday or Saturday. Either are good.
Me: [Oh, I’m wrong] Ahhh. Ehm. Ok then.
I get out of her car, dragging my new DVD player with me, and let myself into my empty house and look at my reflection in the mirror. I look haggard, confused and startled.
Me: [To my own reflection] What the fuck just happened?
Tuesday evening. I’m on my way home from work but will be getting off the bus a few stops early to visit a hideous shopping centre to buy a cheap DVD player to replace the one that done broke and that. It’s a massive inconvenience and I’m tired.
I move toward the doors of the bus as it approaches the shopping-centre. Someone places their hand on my arm.
I don’t like people touching me at the best of times and this is the last place I expect such unwarranted intimacy. I flinch, jerk my arm away and stop just short of punching Captain Touchy square in the face.
Vaguely Familiar Woman: Hi!
Me: Err…
The bus has stopped and we go through the rigmarole of getting off, entering the hideous shopping emporium and side-stepping all the old people and ‘wheelchairs’ that always hold-up the normal pedestrian traffic in such places.
It’s all a bit disorientating and I’d already retreated into a private mental-place as I usually do when visiting this awful citadel-of-hatefulness so I now have to unexpectedly ‘snap out of it’.
VFW: [Beaming at me like I’ve known her for years despite my only slightly recognising her from somewhere or other] So! What you doing?
Me: Ah. DVD. Ehm. I mean. It broke. [Clears throat and pulls self together. Still a bit rattled about all the ‘touching’ business] I need to buy a new [actually, WHO THE FUCK IS THIS WOMAN?] DVD player, I had a box-set delivered and I’ve not been able to watch it – bit frustrating – so I’m ahhh…
VFW: [Astonishingly not losing interest] Ok. Well I just need to pick up some things from Boots The Chemists then I can give you a lift home.
Me: [Glancing behind me at the bus station] Urrr..
VFW: Oh I park the car here and get the bus to and from town.
Me: Ahhh…
VFW: Currys would be best. Or Argos. [Proceeds to give me in-depth directions ‘in case you get lost’ as I probably would]
VFW: I’ll just drop you a text when I’m done in Boots yeah?
Me: [Still massively befuddled. Who the fuck is this person? She does look familiar. And is quite pretty] Yeah.
I’ve said ‘yeah’ purely to end the conversation without really thinking about the consequences
VFW: What’s your number?
I see what she’s done now. And I’ve already said ‘yeah’. So I can’t not give her my number. And of course I now have to give her my name. Because it would now be ‘silly’ not to. She’s good.
Forty minutes later.
We’re now in her car approaching my street.
Me: Anywhere here is fine.
It’s far enough away from my house for her not to know exactly where I live. She stops the car, after a twenty minute journey during which she has acquired my life-story after a asking a few simple questions and making me feel so awkward that I cannot stop talking.
Me: Ah. So. Thanks for this. I must owe you a drink or something.
That’s something you just say isn’t it? No-one takes that as a commitment surely?
VFW: This Friday or Saturday. Either are good.
Me: [Oh, I’m wrong] Ahhh. Ehm. Ok then.
I get out of her car, dragging my new DVD player with me, and let myself into my empty house and look at my reflection in the mirror. I look haggard, confused and startled.
Me: [To my own reflection] What the fuck just happened?
posted by Tired Dad at
11:55 pm
27 Comments:
That is BRILLIANT. She is a total man-hungry stranger and a genius.
Well done Tired.
You now have a girlfriend.
Next Step: FIND OUT HER NAME
or
Move Cities and jobs.
Your choice
So, you didn't write this until midnight Saturday - so what happened about that drink?
so, bunny boiler with unstoppable self confidence, or some woman you do vaguely know but still haven't worked out where from? maybe she sits behind you on that bus every morning???
Oh Tired Dad,
I know I queried whether this sequel was going to be up to Godfather II standards. I really wasn't expecting to log on and read the synopsis to Misery II.
(Mind you, for all your wry derision, YOU were the one that mentioned that drink. )
oh WOW! that is weird!!! Can you still not work out how you know her?
I am massively impressed by her technique. Why did I never think of this kind of approach when looking for a victim, erm, I mean, man?
Come on, tell us about going for a drink with her then?!
She doesn't turn out to be, like your best friend's girl or something....or your long lost sister....*spends too much time watching Australian soaps*
Ali x
I'm reading between the lines here, but you LIKE her, don't you? I can tell by the lack of negative descriptions and the strangely ambivalent title, "something odd happens". Odd, in my experience, is really just another way of saying, 'not bad'. It could even mean good!
How exciting. This is brilliant!
VFW is very intriguing too. What a smooth operator!
Go on. Tell us about the drink then. Wait. She hasn't moved in already, has she?
You're a master of suspense, RTD. I hope she turns out to be a) a rabid internet super-fan b) someone with about the level of fame and vague-recognition-value as, to pick a name at random, Claire Grogan or c) Claire Grogan.
Of course, the most inquiring minds want to know: what was the boxset?! The devil's in the detail.
I'm wondering who the bigger player is.
Flora: The 'genius' thing is right enough.
TSB: What a chilling phrase. And I'm leaning toward the later option.
Z: ......
Trash: Hello. Welcome and that. Oh I really don't know.
Miss U: I know, I know. I was caught off-guard.
Ali: Impressive, yeah. And I'm pretty sure we're not related.
Neurotic: Hello. Youu think too much.
JRME: It was series 6 of 24. So I could watch the first episode and go "Wait! Fuck. Was that Stephen Merchant just there?" 4 years after everyone else in the world did. 'Cos that's just how I roll.
Ellie: Oh believe me - it really isn't me.
If you don't fancy the date with Vaguely Familiar Woman, could you give her number to Uncannily Similar? He sounded quite keen a few posts back.
Hello. Not sure what you're on about, chief. And he's married.
hope you had a lovely drink with ms. "X",or not as the case may be, but just think, maybe she will cook you dinner!
Punx: Oh christ I hope not.
Tired, you clearly underestimate your charm.
Have fun,
Suze
Suze: Believe me, YOU are over-estimating it.
Oooh, now I am really intrigued, all your responses to comments are almost ... bashful...?
I'm saying nowt me, like.
Perhaps VFW has taken out one of them superinjunctions to prevent TD from identifying her. I'm guessing Jemima Khan.
Farty: Sadly it was Pauline McLynn. I had to get her the sack.
You aren't half attracting a lot of female commenters since my last visit old bean...
You old lothario you!
You shagged her yet?
4D
JD: Welcome back. And stay classy, won't you?
JD I think that in this case, if anything, she shagged him
"...." can say such a lot to underemployed minds (like mine).
Christina: On this occasion you are probably right, but I am a lady of good virtue and my 'honour' is intact.
loob: See above.
Tired Dad, you have set up here one of the great blogging mysteries of all time (by which of course I mean since summer 2004). Surely you don't suppose to keep us in suspense indefinitely? I think me and Looby speak for underemployed minds nationwide which are positively overheating with speculation.
J: Oh hello. What was 2004? Was it the parka thing? Anyway. Soon.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home