23 June 2012
Working nights on my patch, as I've mentioned in previous posts, is often a time to see quite odd people and their fashion mistakes.
Tonight, I have seen something I've never encountered before. nothing to do with fashion as such, but what the people were wearing did cause me to look twice. I'm glad I did.
I've just driven my vehicle along one of the main roads out of town. Usually this road is littered with drunk people stumbling home in little groups or the occasional couple or two possibly embarking on a heavy morning of passion and romance. Sometimes I even see couples who haven't just met and actually left their own house earlier in the evening and even after a night on the shandy are still blissfully in love.
The couple who caught my eye did so because they were so mismatched it was obvious they had just met.
The male, all 21 years of his life probably spent waiting for a lady to succumb to his charms was wearing skinny jeans and a tight fitting t shirt. He obviously took his sartorial advice from the pages of the latest pop music periodical. I'd imagine by the look of him his sole experience of the female form was via the free websites of the type young people delete from their browsing history.
The female, quite a larger lady dressed in a flowing Miami blue maxi dress which deftly showed off her well structured cankles teamed with a lovely white cardigan, appeared to be aged around the 'god I'm lucky to pull a young man' age.
They were both walking along the road and I thought,' he'll regret this tomorrow' , when I looked at his face.
He stared straight at me with the kind of look I imagine a veal calf gives to the slaughterhouse worker just before the bolt leaves the gun.
It was obvious to me what had happened. He'd been in a darkened club throwing shapes to the noise the youth call music and after a bellyfull of Stella became entranced by the beauty doing the butt shake dance made famous by Beyonce.
Mesmerised by this figure of hip hop loveliness and empowered by the jd chasers he made his move.
Tentatively approaching her he was boosted by the keenness of his potential conquest. Not realising she she was just so glad that somebody, anybody, had chatted her up that she was already telling her mates what she'd do to him.
When closing time came he told his mates he'd pulled and as it was so dark he didn't see their glee. He should have a word with them as friends should form a protective barrier against this type of thing, not encourage it.
Out he went into the newly emerging day, ecstatic he had finally found a woman to flop about on and finally lose his cherry.
The walk to her house was a long one and unfortunately for the lady was too long to keep sobriety at bay.
I believe the realisation of what he'd done hit him at the precise moment I drove past.
I'm afraid to say I was wrong when I thought he'd regret it in the morning. It's the first time I've seen somebody regret a one night stand before he actually did the one night stand bit.
The kindest thing for me to do to help the poor boy would have been to stop and blag an excuse to take him away from the pain and embarrassment which would surely follow but suddenly the devil in me said, 'leave him, it's character building.'
As I drove away I looked in my rear view mirror and saw his shoulders slump as it dawned on him that he was not to be saved.
It brought a little joy to my heart seeing such a young man give up the fight and concede that he was, actually, going to have to tell lies for the rest of his life about the night he 'pulled the white beyonce.'
Another Night Shift • Opuss № I