My attack of vampiritis seems to be paying off.
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Almost every morning for the past several years as I've walked to work, a man driving a SEAT Leon* goes past – He’s gorgeous, sexy and cool and we have a little 'look' that we give each other. It's not flirty, or coy, it's just a knowing look of recognition. I feel like we are in some sort of relationship, even though he's probably got a wife** and kids***. There's only one thing wrong with him: He may not have any legs.
I say this because I've only ever seen him in his car. Which means torso, arms and head in view, but legs are a complete mystery. Do they exist? Does he have a wheelchair in the back? If they do exist, perhaps they are mini-legs, so that when he stands up he's only four feet tall?
I was working myself up into a mild tizzy about all these unanswered questions, when, last week, something changed.
Our start time at work changed from 07:00 to 07:30, which means I’ve been leaving the house a few minutes later each morning. This means that I no longer see SEAT Leon Man as he’s come and gone by 07:10. Therefore, out of sight, out of mind. However, a new relationship has started where the old one left off.
At about 07:15, a light blue Porsche drives past, and, for the first three days this week, its driver looks at me. And not in a subtle way like SEAT Leon Man. He leans down and over a bit to get a better view of my devastatingly dashing vampiritis enhanced good looks – either that or every morning I’ve had a massive bit of snot hanging off the end of my nose, or a monstrous spot has appeared since leaving my house, and he can’t help but stare in abject horror at it…
Anyway, Wednesday morning I gave him a bit of a smile. The thing is I can’t really make out what he looks like as there’s too much reflection on the windscreen. From what I can see he meets the criteria - everything where it should be, no obvious disfigurements, some kind of interest in me... I imagine him to be somewhat arrogant (because he drives a Porsche – a new one with private plates) and in his early thirties, but not as arrogant as BMW drivers, who have absolutely no reason to be arrogant as BMWs are ten a penny. So common. And I like arrogance. Sexy-arrogance, that is, not arrogant-arrogance. Don't make me explain the differences as I'm not sure I could - at least, not with any conviction.
I really want him to stop when he sees me now, but I’m worried that I may be mistaken for a prostitute by anyone watching. I mean, what else are people going to think when seeing a car pull up to an enticing young(ish) thing. Although, at that time in the morning, I’d hope people would just think he was asking me for directions!
The whole situation may be moot, however, as I didn’t see him this morning. He’s playing hard to get already! Typical. Find a man, even though we haven’t actually met, and already he’s got cold feet. If indeed he has any. As with SEAT Leon Man, I've only seen Porsche Man from the torso up.
Ah well. I just hope I do see him again and that he does stop. And that he has got legs…
* He used to drive a Nissan 200 SX up until a couple of years ago. It made him look even cooler because he slumped in his seat with his elbow leaning on the door!
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And now for something completely different: It will have been a year since my first foray into Blogging on Monday. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, which I should be able to foresee in my crystal ball, I'll see you then.