Yesterday night my husband John, the kids and myself had been invited round to my friend Hannah’s house for trick or treating. But more exciting for me was the fact that I was finally going to meet Ed, her new boyfriend.
Now Hannah has been dating this guy for four months so it is nothing short of a miracle that I haven’t met him yet. At first things were great between them. Unlike her last boyfriend who she found cheating on her she told me he seemed pathologically faithful from day one and declared love by around the first week mark. They shared the same taste in music and generally got along well apart from in the sack. There were problems both in… do you mind if we talk in Tower Bridge metaphors here? Well, there were problems both in raising the bridge (sometimes it took a lot of elbow grease) and …no, once the bridge was raised it could maintain its erectness, but sometimes its erectness would go on forever with no end in sight leading in frustration for ….the bridge. Now I have made that clear let us go on.
I told Hannah that problems in bridge function could (or so I had heard) be cured by using a little blue pill. I suggested a blue themed menu which could be heavily spiced with crushed Viagra. They could start with a hamburger with melted blue cheese on it and finish with blue frosted cupcakes. Hannah said she’d feel bad sneaking the blue pill into his food. What about the direct approach I suggested, there was no point waiting until the bridge stopped functioning altogether before phoning the engineer if she knew what I meant? But Hannah felt that the bridge function problem would only be exacerbated if she confronted the problem directly by giving him say a 500 count box of Viagra for his birthday. His ego might take a battering from which it would never recover, she said.
So despite the ups and downs (sorry) of their relationship Hannah and Ed were happy enough for four months except that I hadn’t met him. My husband therefore started the rumor that he was her imaginary boyfriend and Hannah found that rather amusing.
I had in fact seen Ed insofar as he had left his laptop at her place and she’d shown me pictures of him he’d left on it. Luckily I was able to tell her that he looked pretty good for a fifty year old. But to be honest she seemed more interested in looking at pictures of his ex-girlfriend who was pretty homely looking.
She said, “Is it just me or does she have a moustache?”
At first I thought she was being bitchy but as we scrolled through the dozens of pictures of her it seemed that yes, the ex was indeed rather plain not to mention hairy. Then we had a long discussion about what does it say about a man that he was in love with a plain woman? Did that make him spectacularly unsuperficial or just plain desperate? And what did that say about his relationship with Hannah?
So last night Ed was meant to turn up but when we got to Hannah’s house she said he was in a bad mood and was not coming. My husband smiled at that remark given its bridge metaphor significance and lost no time in answering anyone we met that evening who asked where Ed was with a straight face, “Oh Ed’s not coming.” (geddit?)
So why did Ed get cold feet? Maybe he simply didn’t relish going trick or treating with a bunch of hyperactive eight year olds? Who knows. All I know is that it has still to be proved whether Ed is a real man or simply a manifestation of Hannah’s imagination. What other advice can I give her to fix Ed's mechanical misfunctions? I'm pretty sure she'd be better of with a hologram boyfriend at this stage of the game but she says "He'll do, for now."
In the meantime here is me in my Halloween costume. What’s up with the wig some of you will be asking?
Yeah I know I look a little more Candy Darling from the Warhol Factory than Marilyn Monroe but … you know me, I roll with the punches.
Who am I? Displaced Londoner now living in the States with my two little girlies and long suffering husband. Co-author of hilarious parenting book Cocktails at Naptime www.cocktailsatnaptime.com
My mom's an Austrian, my dad's a Brit, which makes me a Britaustrian, or possibly an Austrish?