“Alison”
A performance piece – plenty of opportunity for innuendo and frivolity 🙂
Alison
And so, Alison?
Where to 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 answer
To a thousand prayers
For a friend, a soul mate.
If all else failed,
Perhaps, even, a wife.
I crossed to her brand new Subaru
Mouthing, “Hotlegs42?”
Alison looked me down and up
Up and down and frowned.
“You’re not UntamedTiger54
You look nothing like the picture,
You sent me before.”
I was bursting for a leg over
And I did not want to lose her
With the inconvenient truth
That my profile photos
Were taken by a studio pro,
Over seven years ago,
When I was four stones lighter
And my black hair
Hadn’t faded to grey.
He was not cheap.
But well worth the extra
For the solvent, outdoor, beach hunk,
Beefcake, own teeth, cat lover look,
Certain to score with desperate 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 snorted, tossed me a peach,
“Coffee? Walk on the beach?”
I rolled up my trousers
As we paddled in the shallows
Preferring lagging a little behind
Comparing her pert derriere
With the shape of the fruit
Cupped in my hand.
I took a succulent bite,
And a jet of juice
Shot over my chinos,
And the ironed front of my
Primark ‘value’ granddad shirt.
We sat at a beachside café,
Chocolate chip cappuccino for her,
And the same for me.
White froth lined my moustache
And Alison laughed,
Toyed with her hair,
Made significant eye contact,
And tapped my arm, twice.
‘You’re well in here, Tiger, back of the net!’
She was shop-worn for forty-two,
But passable.
And with lights off and curtains drawn?
She’d more than do.
We strolled the sand holding hands.
Watching the sun setting.
Weighing the chances…
Night after night we tumbled together
Sharing wines, chocolate and cheeses,
And body fluids copiously.
To round off our summer fling
We chose a weekend in Berlin.
It sounded swell…
And, the knell
Of our sunshine summer
Of making hay and rolling in it.
Alison filled out the passport forms,
“Leave it all to me.”
All went smoothly until,
“Date of birth?”
I rubbed my neck,
“Not sure… I’ll have to check.”
“You are fifty four?”
“Yeah well… no well… kinda… sorta.”
She found my bus pass and flung it at me,
“This means you must be sixty friggin’ three,
Are you a sodding pensioner?”
“Yeah, but no, I retired early.
I didn’t think it worth a mention.”
Screaming, “Lying bastid, typical man!”
Alison stormed out slamming the door and
Tossed her screwed up form to the floor.
It turns out she was just like me,
Next week, her birthday,
Fifty rotten three!
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
I avoid paid singles’ sites – they send you a flurry of auto-generated ‘interested’ profiles just as your subscription is about to expire. I use plenty offish (and most are) have 3 potentialees on the go at the moment – one is going well, the other two are (I think) time wasting but hey ho. And one woman has the most ‘keep off’ profile I ever read – I’ll employ elements of that in a new pome as and when I get past my rewrite phase. This pome, “Alison” (based on events not entirely true nor entirely fictitious) goes down… Read more »
I agree, Rick. I have done a few open mikes but I am concentrating on solo performing my songs for the very same reason as the audience reaction tells you if you are polishing a turd or not. I think I will repost Flash America as two very fat American ‘poets’ in the poetry group I tried to join (before I realised what a collection of pretious *****s they were) tried to lynch me afterwards. Mitch
ha ha – go for it 🙂
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.
I’ve met them all – including one woman from Brum who texted me when my train from Hull via Donny was at Tamworth saying her husband (first mention of him) had found out 🙂 Oh the five stone lighter, 10 years older people I meet – why do they do that? It’s like being a goal down straight from the kick off. Beware ‘cuddly’ , ‘bubbly, ‘a few pounds overweight’ or ‘weight not advised’ and “I WILL KNOW IF YOU’RE LYING!!!” profiles. Have a date sorted in York on Saturday but it’s a pound to a pinch of poo she… Read more »
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 🙂
Ha ha – i just found out that I’d ‘favourited’ my latest ex girlfriend on pof – I had wondered if it might be her but the age and height seemed unlike my recollection 🙂
V. funny and acute about false illusion and growing old.
Refusing to grow old or admit it 🙂