i knew this was going to happen,
for three days i was beside myself after having met her
at work, the way she smiles...
she creases her face like someone might
crease a piece of paper...
there's nothing menacing about it...
but she does it in this most splendid of ways...
oh she went out of her way today,
she took out her earrings, she didn't have any
rings on her fingers...
i abhor any metallic additions to the body...
i esp. abhor earrings,
i esp. abhor rings on fingers...
i'm fine with a necklace...
but anything else is a massive turn off...
today i found that beside the hands being
the most ****** part of a woman's body...
closely second... are their ears...
and she's a petite girl... 5ft2...
when we finally said our goodbyes i only had
to wrap one hand around her to bear hug her...
we didn't kiss the cheeks upon meeting
so upon saying a long goodbye
i had to do it twice, before ******* off...
she said: between 5 and 6pm...
she first texted me: is it o.k. that we move it for 6pm?
sure... no problem...
so i ate a brilliant salmon teriyaki
noodles... tarted myself up...
the housework was already done,
i stocked up on whiskey for tomorrow:
Bolton Wanderers are apparently going
to be a rowdy bunch up in Oxford...
put on my butcher boy's cap...
dressed in my per usual attire of...
how did my ex's younger sister put it?
oh... 'Matt... he's always dressed in earthly colours'...
yep... anything brown, green,
i'll be wearing that...
it's a good thing that i use my mobile
when i have access to the internet indoors...
and when outside? i only turn on mobile data
when i need to call someone,
otherwise i switch it off...
i'm travelling... whether that's by car,
bicycle or merely walking...
she sent me a text...
Matt i was fine til about 30mins ago... now i'm
doubled up with a belly ache (crying emoji face)
probably trapped wind (sad emoji face)
might have to put you off for an hr see if it subsides x
there's no hindsight with that...
i arrived five minutes prior to six pm...
bearing... the promised bottle of wine...
some banana loaf i made for her son:
at one point the dog was barking mad about sniffing
it out... she had to tell the dog off...
'no, it's not yours'...
and a bottle of Franziskeiner Weissbier for myself...
i asked to be topped up with a glass
of wine: my throat was getting dry...
she wasn't going to stall me...
oh, you want to know what teenage butterflies feels,
having them in your stomach?
it was silly of my to have felt them for
3 days after meeting you?
you're not getting off so easily...
if you have feelings for me?
you're going to feel them...
and she was all ready to begin with...
scented candles in the house, the house tidied up...
incense in the kitchen...
now i see the bigger picture...
women only love men by the women feel about
themselves around certain man...
i mean... i dated a 6ft girl once... but this one...
this pretty red-haired ****** has me all fired up...
and it now seems... she's reciprocating...
we're still at this nervous stage of out-thinking
each other...
but when she opened the door i could see...
ooh oh... something's up...
she tried to not be nervous...
i gave her my home-made wine in
a wine bottle from South Africa: Arabella...
i just sent her a link to a song
that inspired me: the Arctic Monkeys' song
of the same title...
i came at 6... left eleven minutes past 9pm...
she wanted me to stay longer,
but i said to her: and you know i have work
tomorrow... plus you said you came back
from work and Freddy came back from school
and you really haven't spoken to each other...
plus you just said you're going to run a bath...
my god, how she elevated her beauty without
donning any armour of rings and earrings...
yeah, i know there's a kid in the background...
that's why i brought the banana loaf with me
and i'm not thinking about sleeping with her...
i need to elevate the tension in her...
until she snaps...
time... precious time...
and as he put a chair in the kitchen for me to sit on...
and as i watched her prepare a meal for her son...
my god... how happy she looked...
she played all the songs that spoke for her...
we exchanged a like for Dua Lipa and Mabel...
what?!
she danced, she laughed, she sang...
she has a beautiful voice...
she delighted me... with her new found happiness...
she danced, she laughed, she sang...
she almost looked like a teenager once more...
i just sat there before another face emerged
when my voice suddenly dropped lower
and became more husky...
come on, what are my options?
she has lost a few children along the way via miscarriage,
she only has this one boy,
i tell her: i'm the only child myself...
her older brother is living with his parents
and he's a bully,
i tell her: i'm rather ashamed of still living with
my parents, but i do all the cooking,
the cleaning and if the garden needs work...
she's super excited about having a hot tub...
i have a hot tub... not one of those inflatable types...
she illuminated her vinyl player today
when i sent her a photo of my rack with books
from the floor to the ceiling and a bunch
of vinyls: oh, you should have told me...
i would have brought a record over...
blah blah...
i don't know how 6pm turned into 9pm...
well... if the dog is barking mad about sniffing that banana
loaf... i hope the two of them will be as mad
about it as the dog...
but it's only fair... if i'm getting butterflies in my stomach
after initially meeting her...
she should feel some of that herself...
see if she likes it...
i didn't... we gently touched hands while she showed
me a book of pictures of old Romford...
i told her: i'll bring a copy of a book: similar
from where i was born... famous in the 20th century
for its metallurgy... all those metal poles
at that Paris stadium? they came from my hometown...
Edinburgh is as dear to my heart as Paris...
believe me... that city has ghosts...
it's such a perfect storm...
she has her period pains and psychosis...
i've had my psychosis and ejaculations...
you know: mad meets mad...
all her past relationships were with violent
alcoholics... i'm a drinker that makes his own
wine... the only person i was ever violent to
when drinking? me... i put out cigarettes
butts on my knuckles when i say to myself:
ENOUGH, OF THE *******, BUTTERFLIES!
i need a higher experience...
none of all this mushy-mushy *******...
i need a penetrating sensation...
something that goes into the territory of
the nerves...
my god, how she danced, how she laughed, how she sang...
i'm pretty sure her son was like:
who's this guy that's making my mum
feel so good about herself?
she literally ran outside of the house
and started dancing in the garden...
yet all the while trying to stall me... ghost me...
no... i'm not having it... you're getting this wine,
you're getting this banana loaf: whether
you like it, or not...
i'm not going to drink it, i'm not going to eat it...
i really don't care about your past...
sure... you ****** up...
anyone who hasn't ****** up...
is about to **** up...
but, see... it's not like she's even remotely interested
in what i have to say...
she's so high on herself that i fall back...
why am i only child? well... you know... Chernobyl...
women in Poland had to drink iodine... blah blah...
she's not exactly interested in me...
i know that... because she's regained a focus
for being re-interested in herself...
she's found herself, once more,
but the self she found... oddly enough:
she didn't expect to be so young!
she looked like a teenage girl, she behaved like
a teenage girl...
it's very lovely to see a woman nearing her 40s
behaving like she might be...
oh... i'd say in the range of 8 through to 14 years of age...
let's get real...
i'm not going to be looking for women in their
20s... all geared up for their anti-racist
black fascist ****** escapades...
o.k., darling: you do you...
n'ah... i'm not having any of that crap...
give me a: cougar...
a puzzle-box of a woman...
let me see if i can fit it... into her life...
i don't do anti-racism...
after all... all the Jimmy Carr jokes wouldn't
be funny...
why would i want Jimmy Carr's jokes
to not be funny...
point blank reference... stand-up comedy:
the monologue approach to jokes
is a very English thing...
in Poland? you have satire... satire staged
within the confines of a... cabaret...
you have cabaret comedy...
which involves multiple actors...
rarely... almost never will you have
monologue stand-up comics...
stand-up comedy is an exclusively English
"thing"...
but the English are not really prone to
enjoy satire... beside... a newspaper comic strip...
that's about how much satire as
the English public entertains...
not to mention... "us", Polacks...
are a very self-deprecating people...
comedy is very self-deprecting...
but the people who enjoy it...
take themselves very seriously...
weird, no?
maybe because the theme of satire is only
allowed for political "concerns" and is never
made omnipresent in an English society...
bad translation...
everyday people can't be satirised in
the satire of everyday situations
for the simple reason that there has to be
a comedy sketch of: someone appearing / thinking
they're smarter than the other person...
therefore? the comedy of one...
rather than the satire of the many..
i.e. the situation is funny... therefore everyone is
in on the joke...
no... in England... this hyper-inflated gut *** of
emotions of non-feeling...
the personal joke is more important than
a shared joke... satire via the cabaret is of
the latter category... the former? eh... solipsism...
autism... whatever you want to call it...
it takes... a whole lot of specifics to get it right...
but stand-up comedy...
from what i've seen...
doesn't translate as well as you go further east...
a bit like THINKING... English people are too
pragmatic to think... in Europe: "thinking" is either
done by the French or the Germans...
pragmatic... egalitarian... unitarian...
ah... now i see why she was bothered about...
why i used G... instead of J when writing down
her name... the daughters of Job...
the other two were Keziah and Keren...
little dove...
and i subsequently sent her an explanation...
blah blah... well...
there's that... now i can return to drinking
and rubbing my hands together
like a fly.