I have been out of the dating game for a while. So long in fact that I may well have lost touch with the social nuances of flirtation. I also have to come to terms with my advancing age and that this may affect the dance somewhat. These days it’s the second time around for those on the make so perhaps this has implications for choice of venue?
I took my children out to Yeesh, an upmarket indoor play area that can burn off excess energy so that their exhausted parent can slouch in a couch and read the latest Hello!
I was strong armed into painting a ceramic dolphin with a small boy and was happily elbow deep in blue acrylics when…
A portly-ish man of middle age and Mediterranean heritage plonked himself down beside me. I glanced at him and his child and returned to the pressing matter of marine life.
Suddenly a large slightly sweaty hand landed on my knee and with a none to gentle squeeze he launched into the most bizarre tirade.
“Oh my God!” he exclaimed, sweaty paw still on my knee, “I don’t know who is more trouble, my mother, my wife or my mistress.”
I smiled wanly and extricated my limbs from beneath his clutching fingers.
“My mother wants a new electric blanket. My wife says she has already got her one and my mistress wants me to take her to the tropics.”
Some response was obviously expected, so I fell back on the good standby of, “Really?”
“If you want a mistress, you should always get a married one.”
My curiosity was aroused, “Why?”
“They don’t make demands on you, they’re just grateful if you service them once or twice a week.”
I thought about it and said, “Where on earth do they find the time?”
I need to point out here that his son sat beside him during the whole exchange and his wife was about 2 meters away cradling a newborn.
It was only later I began to wonder if he’d been interviewing me for the soon-to-be-vacant position of his married amour.
After that epiphany I had to have a large glass of wine to steady my nerves.
And he said dolphins shouldn’t be blue either.