by sarah (Thu Jan 28, 2010)
We lay in a heap on the
pub floor, having fallen off our bench.
We had tears rolling
down our cheeks, and were both dissolved in laughter and hitting each other as
we choked out words like ‘roadworks!' and ‘goal.' It was the culmination of a
ten week relationship between my friend Laura and her new boyfriend.
The first time I got to
meet Laura's new boyfriend, she had been dating him for a couple of weeks, and
we were all relieved that following her recent spate of ‘bad boys,' she was
finally seeing someone who bought her flowers, and was keen to meet her family
and friends. We had invited them for a few drinks after work, and I was keen to
make a good impression on the alleged ‘Mr Nice.' They arrived punctually (he
was driving - she's never on time) and she bounded in, full of enthusiasm, with
him following behind. As the evening progressed, my friend and I naturally
began chatting away, and the menfolk (new boyfriend and my husband, James)
seemed to be establishing a good rapport. She reconfirmed to me with glee how
nice he was. He had been really good with her niece and nephew; and he had
volunteered to landscape her mum's garden! This was apparently because he
missed gardening, which had been his full time job, prior to the recession. He
is now a bus driver, which luckily, he also enjoys.
Soon I popped through
to the kitchen to top up our drinks, and grab some nibbles. But suddenly James
appeared close behind me. ‘Please don't go off talking with Laura again - I
cannot listen to another word about bus routes, nor about football!' Grumpily,
I told him to make an effort and not to expect everyone to share his interests,
the poor guy was probably nervous for heaven's sake! Reluctantly, James
apologised and said he'd try. However, I decided that for everyone's benefit,
it would be better for us all to chat together. So when I returned to the room
I sat next to the new boyfriend. And I listened, for a long, long time, as he
talked in incredible detail about the roadworks affecting the bus routes. He
regularly repeated himself, to ensure I understood. As he spoke I tuned out,
bored beyond comprehension by his words. Across
the table Laura and James were chatting animatedly. I twitched furiously to
catch the attention of James, who eventually smiled graciously, ‘Have you been
chatting about the buses?' he enquired. ‘Yes, I've been hearing all about the
route disruptions.' I replied, unamused. Laura smiled, seemingly unaware of any
problems. And so the evening droned on. As we left she whispered ‘Do you like
him?' I replied that he seemed ‘nice.'
But after several weeks
of having to make frantic eyes at James, to help me out each time that I was
cornered listening to bus and football monologues, it all became too much
to bear. I plucked up the courage to call Laura and ask if we could meet alone.
It was time that the truth came out: her new man was unspeakably dull. Luckily
Laura's own plans had fallen through that evening, and so we agreed to meet at
the local pub. Once face to face, I began, ‘Laura, we need to speak...' But I
never got any further, ‘Me first!' she cried. And so it unfolded. Apparently
Laura had her own concerns; primarily about their flagging sex life. That night,
in a final desperate bid for some saucy fun, she had decided to go with her new
man's interests. She had turned herself into a human bus route map using a pen,
syrup, and whipped cream (for roadworks), and had texted him to come over
immediately. On arrival, he had looked at her in shock, declared her too racy,
and left.
Unperturbed, Laura had accepted my invitation to
the pub. There she lifted her top proudly to reveal bus routes 29, 42, 31, 26...
and so on. Apparently, she had even trimmed down below to resemble a football -
hoping that she would finally score with the new boyfriend.
I think that was when I
fell off the bench...
