A performance piece – plenty of opportunity for innuendo and frivolity  🙂


And so, Alison?

Where should I begin?

We met in Skeggy

It was love at first sight-ish for me


She wound the window down

And waved from her car

With a wide mouth smile

Evoking summer freshness

Crisp white cotton shorts…

…Tennis courts.


Heaven’s reply

To a thousand desperate





For a friend,

For a soul mate


Or if all else failed

A wife at least.


I crossed the road

to her brand new


Mouthing, “Hotlegs42?”


Alison looked me down

And up

Up and down

And frowned.


“You’re not UntamedTiger54?

You’re nothing like the picture,

You sent me before.”


[Fair dos, truth told, neither was she]


I was aching for a lover

And she was too alluring to lose

With the inconvenience of truth


That all my pics were

The work of a studio pro

Taken six or more years ago

When I was four stone lighter

And my black hair hadn’t faded to grey.


He charged more

But well worth the extra

For the outdoor – beach hunk -cheesecake

Rugged terrain walking- cat lover look

Certain to score with lovelorn women

Scouring the web for a bloke to snare


So I lied and said,

“That one was taken a month ago

My mate caught me just right.

It was a good light”


Alison sniffed, tossed me a peach

Saying coldly, “Coffee?  Walk on the beach?”


She strode along the water line

I sauntered behind

Religiously comparing her pert derriere

To the fruit cupped in my hand.



I took a succulent bite,

A shoot of juice 

Splashed my ‘sta prest’ Chinos

And the ironed front

Of my fairly new

Primark value granddad shirt


We sat at a beachside café

Drinking coffee…

Chocolate chip cappucino for her

And the same for me.


White froth lined my moustache

And Alison laughed and

Toyed with her hair

Made significant eye contact.

And tapped my arm


I was well in there.


She looked a little shop worn

For forty two,

But with lights off and curtains drawn?

Passable? She’d do.


We strolled the sand

Holding hands 

Watching the sun setting

Weighing the chances


Night after night we tumbled together

A summer of sharing wines,

Chocolates and cheeses

And body fluids



To round off the season nicely

We chose a holiday – touring Brittany.


It sounded swell…

And, the knell of our

Sunshine summer of

Making hay and

Rolling in it.


Alison filled in our passport forms,

She said, “Leave everything to me.”

All was fine until she asked,

“Date of birth?”


 “Not sure…I’ll have to look.”


“You are fifty four?”


“Yeah, kinda, sorta.”


She threw my driving license to the floor


“It shows here that you’re sixty four

Are you a sodding pensioner!?”


“Yeah, but no but I retired early…

hardly worth a mention.”


“Lying bastid, typical man!”


Alison pranced out of my life snorting,

Leaving her filled in form behind


Turns out she was no better than me

Next week – her birthday – fifty three!


© coolhermit 2017
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critique and comments welcome.

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10 Comments on "“Alison”"

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I once thought of going on match.com but baulked for the very reasons outlined here. made me smile – usually a rare feat without major surgery. Mitch


This, Rick, did the trick. Light, bright and slick!
When I was first divorced (’93) I tried dating adverts in local papers. Some of the ‘turn-ups’ I walked by and kept walking breathing a prayer of thanks. ‘Well rounded’ I learned meant severely obese. ‘forty something’ could be stretched to 60. One woman seemed fine until she was on her second bottle of red then she turned into a female rapist with a foul mouth. (Odour and language) Left me wondering where the hell is St. George when you need him?
Brought back as few memories there mate thanks.


Haha loved it, never tried those dating site thingies, would hate someone to be struck dumb with disappointment when they saw me, blindness would work, but never disappointment.lol. Great write 🙂


V. funny and acute about false illusion and growing old.

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