Today I was thirty and woke up alone. Part of me wanted to by-pass the day, but Pete was not thinking the same as that part of me. He had informed me last night that he had organised a big night out for me and in his words “We are going to Party like its 1999”. Did I feel like partying? Would it matter if I didn’t?
My parents had left a pile of presents for me to open when I woke up and there were a pile of cards by the door the postman had delivered but I just couldn’t be bothered. All I wanted to do was turn over and hide under my duvet that Becky had bought from C&A. The plan was never to turn 30 a single man everything had gone wrong. I should be living in Alrewas with my beautiful wife Becky. Maybe she is thinking of me now on my birthday. Maybe she’ll realise what a mistake she has made and turn up. Or maybe more realistically she will send me a card. For that reason alone I went to pick my cards off the floor. The noise of them hitting the floor when the postman pushed them through about twenty minutes ago seemed quite loud, but I only found four items of post on the floor waiting for me. Of those four items only two looked like birthday cards. The others were a solicitor’s letter reminding me that they wanted paying even though we have pulled out the sale and an invite to a Bridal Fair sponsored by Cosmopolitan. The first card was my Auntie Janet’s handwriting the second was harder to decipher. In fact I was very impressed by the postman that it found me at all. Both cards had decided to remind me, in case I hadn’t realised that I was thirty. My Aunt’s card was an attempt at knowing me because it had a football picture on the front. Admittedly it was Liverpool playing what looked like Rochdale, but it is the thought that counts. I was even called a ‘Special Nephew’. My Uncle Cyril had written his name and my Auntie her’s for some reason. Then for an even stranger reason there was a paw print underneath that must belong to a small pet. I vaguely recall them having a rabbit but it might have been a small cat. The second card gave no clues as to who it was from because they had forgotten to sign it. However inside was a cheque that had been signed with my Nan’s name on. It had the correct date on. This biggest surprise was the amount on the cheque… It was for ten thousand pounds. I was in total shock and just held it in my hands. I didn’t know my Nan had this sort of money. Maybe she is just confused and it will bounce as soon as I try to pay it in. What could I do with ten thousand pounds? New car maybe. With my old car as trade-in I could get a really sporty one to rival Pete’s. I could go on a big holiday? Perhaps Florida or Australia. I could even give up my Council job and travel around the world for a year. Or use it to pay for my season for the next twenty years.
My sister Karen decided to take me out for a birthday lunch to a pub near Wall. Karen was in the middle of a voluntary counselling course at Wolverhampton Poly and I could tell straight away that I was going to be her client for the next hour. Since splitting with Toby, Karen had become quite hippy like and I was relieved to see that the pub wasn’t a vegetarian one and that I could get a large meaty burger with curly fries. We had never really mentioned the split with Toby but as Karen kept trying to find how I really was about ‘The Becky Thing’ then I mirrored most of her questions by asking about Toby. Karen was obviously hiding something and I was in the mood to find out what it was. Like a careful game of chess both of us tried to make our move trying to extract information from the other. If I am honest we were never that close. The four year gap meant that we never really played together and Karen was nearly always one school ahead of me. I had always liked my sister and respected her, but had no idea what made her tick. Why were there no children? Why had things not worked with Toby? What had she spent the last year doing? Karen seemed happy and kept touching my leg as if to comfort me.
I decided not to mention the money, or possible money, off Nan to Karen because she might feel as if I was her favourite.
“Did you get your cheque off Nan this morning?”, Karen surprisingly enquired. I nodded and looked surprised.
“I had the same four years ago when I was thirty. It probably cost me my marriage”, Karen continued to shock me.
It was my turn to listen as Karen explained all the things that had gone wrong since she received the ten thousand pounds. It seems that she had spent most of it within six months on new clothes and jewellery. She had stopped buying her normal clothes from BHS and instead bought clothes that were previously out of her range. She became selfish and wouldn’t let Toby see any of the money. When it had all gone she continued to spend and buy even fancier clothes. All her money then went and soon all of their joint account. Credit card bills mounted and other bills were not paid. Her store cards remained unpaid and everything was putting a strain on the relationship. Toby tried to take all he cards away but by then she was a shopaholic. Every week she bought new outfits and wore them just once. Toby took out a loan to try and clear her debts but still she wanted more clothes. In the end Toby could take it no more so he told her she had to leave. Wow this was a bigger confession than I was expecting.
My sister was now leaning on my shoulder crying uncontrollably as I tried to fit the large burger in my mouth. This was all a little too emotional and it was drawing attention to us. The barman came and asked if everything was alright with our meals and I nodded at him. What a way to spend your thirtieth birthday.
What should I do with the money then, as now it seems as if it was real? My sister could may be do with a bit more to pay her debts off or should I just give it to charity. It was quite a responsibility and one that I wasn’t going to face until I really had to. I certainly wouldn’t be telling Pete because he would probably have some big plan for it.
After lunch with my sister and her revelations I was hoping that a evening with Pete would not be quite as surprising. I was wrong. Pete picked me up at five to eight as he had said he would. Pete had decided that he should drive us into Lichfield and then leave his car there and we would get taxis back. In the past we had arranged to do this then Pete would forget that he had drunk nine points and try and drive home, so this time I was going to take charge of his car keys. I didn’t really feel like going out and I hadn’t made any effort. Even my armpits hadn’t received there daily squirt of Rightguard. Really I just couldn’t be bothered and was in no mood for celebration. Pete didn’t seem his usual laid back self and I began to think that all is not well in his world. He looked quite smart with for once an unripped pair of jeans on and quite a baggy black shirt. He also gave me a card for the first time ever and then surprised me more by pointing to a neatly wrapped present on the backseat. Well, more of a rear shelf in his small car. This was a very rare event a present from Pete. There was even a tag that seemed to have nicked a line from the ‘Golden Girls’ theme tune. It said ‘thank you for being a friend’. The card was also quite serious and telling me how special I was and how I was always there. This was all far too serious if we didn’t watch it we would end up in an embarrassing matey hug. As we drove I opened the present which was far too well wrapped even with a red bow. Either Pete had got somebody else to wrap this or he had hidden feminine side. Inside was a shoe box and inside was an amazing work of art. It stopped me totally in my tracks. It was a wooden model of the Villa Trinity Road stand complete with all the Victorian hoardings. It was fantastic and match from matchsticks. I had to ask Pete where he had managed to get this from as I thought I knew all the Villa official merchandise. Pete then casually revealed that he had spent the last four months making it. This left me not knowing what to say. Was he having me on or had he really done this for me. The detail was amazing and everything looked the perfect scale. I could tell by his modest reaction that this was Pete’s handy work.
“It’s bloody brilliant, isn’t it”, Pete’s modesty didn’t last long.
It was brilliant and probably the best present I have ever had. Even better than ten thousand pounds. Pete was a very special friend and also a very talented one. I just wish he had given me this before we left the house because the speed he was taking the corners at and the fragility of the model was worrying me. The next worry was why we were hurtling past Lichfield and showing no signs of stopping. The Meatloaf CD playing ‘Bat out of Hell’ seemed very appropriate.
It was exactly half past eight when we pulled into a carpark of a pub come hotel just outside of Burton called inappropriately ‘The Albion’. This wasn’t a normal haunt but Pete seemed to know exactly where he was going. Oh dear, I suddenly started to think of those dreaded words ‘SURPRISE PARTY’. Was this all a setup? Would I be greeted by darkness and party poppers? I had never had a surprise party and yes, I had always fancied one but not now, please. Pete led me to a door on the right of the building and then into a room that I think I saw labelled ‘Function Room’. Inside the room we were greeted by a DJ shouting those dreaded words, “Here comes the birthday boy” and the sound of clapping. No party poppers but this certainly was a party.
Next Week : A Naked Birthday Surprise
Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts
Friday, January 22, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Week 10 - The Double Date
The next two weeks went quite quickly and although I raced home from work each day in the hope that there might be a letter from Becky waiting for me I began to think about her less and less. Yes, there were times when my head would be full of thoughts like, are we still engaged, did my smelly feet put her off and should I have reacted differently when I received the text on that fateful night. The way I had reacted was of course so typical of me and the way I bury my head in the sand just hoping things will go away. Perhaps I should have taken the text message as a sign that things were not good and gone straight around to see Becky. To hell with it being bad luck to see the bride the night before the wedding. It is more unlucky not to see her on the wedding day. It also seems now that other people are beginning to forget about what happened and are starting to treat me without the cotton gloves. My mum will now even mention the ‘B’ word Becky when I am around.
I am driving with Pete back from seeing the Villa draw when he announces that we have a double date that night with a couple of crackers. This certainly takes me by surprise, but perhaps it is just what I need. Even Pete is taken aback by my cool response to this news. He explains that I would be doing him a favour because he has been trying to spend time with a girl called Lyn for a few weeks, but she always has her friend Denise in tow. Even though I expect that the term ‘cracker’ was perhaps more apt for Lyn than this Denise I was excited by the chance to have date on a Saturday night. Yes, it was good to be able to veg out on a Saturday night with the pink football papers and watch ‘Match of the Day’, but this Saturday night I was going to be out on a date. Pete dropped me off and informed me that we were meeting at the Craven Arms at eight o’clock. This gave me about ninety minutes to get ready. I decided to go the whole way and even had a bath using some bubble bath that Becky had left behind. It was a bit girly smelling, but I thought it would make me smell nice. Having not used bubble bath since the days of the blue sailor one called ‘Matey’, which promised clean kids and a clean bath, I was not exactly sure how much foam to put in. Perhaps if I use this flower scented pink one again I will use about a quarter of the amount because not only would the bubbles I had created not seem to want to disappear from my body but I smelt like an exhibit at the Chelsea Flower Show. It was too much and I was sure that Pete would make a comment so I tried to hide the smell with some aftershave. Unfortunately the only bottle that I had that was half decent was one that Becky’s mum gave me last Christmas. I had only tried it once and didn’t really care for the smell but I desperately needed something to hide the scent of flowers.
I tried on my favourite black button fly jeans which Becky always said showed my bottom off well. I only wore them on special occasions because I found the button fly very difficult if I had a few drinks and had to go for a wee. Standing by a urinal spending minutes trying to correctly fasten all the stiff buttons always made me worry that somebody would think I was dong something dodgy with my private bits. I was going to go for it tonight and hopefully avoid having to empty my bladder during the evening. The only problem was that over the last couple of months since joining the jilted club I hadn’t really been eating very much, mainly because I couldn’t be bothered to go shopping. So even for my usual skinny self I was looking very thin. The jeans almost fell right down with the lack of waist. Even with a belt with the buckle in the last hole they were still not secure. Time was running out so with the aid of a Phillips screwdriver I added an extra hole to my belt. Perhaps if I had taken the belt off first I wouldn’t have stabbed myself in the leg with the screwdriver, but it didn’t bleed too much and apart from having to change my white shirt no harm was done. I put my black shirt on instead and couldn’t really tell if I looked fashionable or as if I was going to a funeral. My hair was desperately in need of a visit to the hairdressers with a number of added curls appearing in unexpected places. Also I noticed an unwanted grey hair on the left-hand side which I am sure was not there when I was preparing for the wedding. Was it stress or the first real signs of aging? At 29 had I peaked? Would it be all downhill from now with hair going grey and then dropping out? Would I have to start taking a change of pants out with me to stop me smelling of wee because I dribble after I have been for a pee? There was no time to get depressed now though as I had to be ready for my date. With a quick yank I pulled out the offending grey hair. Maybe I could start dying my hair if it got any worse.
As always I was very punctual and reached the Craven Arms at five to eight. Normally I would arrive ten minutes early but decided I didn’t want to appear too keen. Pete wasn’t there yet, but Pete was often late so I looked around to see if I could see two ‘crackers’ inside. For some reason I hadn’t asked Pete anything about what Denise was like. Perhaps I didn’t really want to know so I didn’t have any preconceived ideas. I mean if Pete had said she had a great personality knowing Pete it would have meant ‘she is not much to look at’. I didn’t care what she was like it was just a relief to be out on a Saturday night. The Craven Arms was not one of our usual pubs so I assume Pete had chosen it because it would have the least number of his ex’s there. It wasn’t bad little pub though and I had taken Becky there once and we had had quite a romantic night at the table to the right of the log fire sharing a bag of dry-roasted peanuts and making one round of drinks last all night.
It is nearly ten past eight before Pete walks in with two girls. One of them was a quite stunning brunette with a tight silver top on and a short black skirt. She was maybe lacking a few pounds in the vital areas but oozed confidence in her designer mirror sunglasses even though it was pitch black outside. Behind Pete and this attractive lady was another girl who wasn’t really in the same league but had a cute look about her. She was quite short and dumpy with blonde highlights in her short brownish hair and a West Bromwich Albion scarf round her neck. This I thought must be the friend Denise. Apart from the scarf and the considerable height difference to me I was quite intrigued by this stranger. To my surprise Pete introduced the woman in the Albion scarf to me first as Lyn. It seemed that my date Denise was actually the more glamorous of the two girls with Pete. This was certainly a turn-up.
Next Week : Denise or Lyn?
I am driving with Pete back from seeing the Villa draw when he announces that we have a double date that night with a couple of crackers. This certainly takes me by surprise, but perhaps it is just what I need. Even Pete is taken aback by my cool response to this news. He explains that I would be doing him a favour because he has been trying to spend time with a girl called Lyn for a few weeks, but she always has her friend Denise in tow. Even though I expect that the term ‘cracker’ was perhaps more apt for Lyn than this Denise I was excited by the chance to have date on a Saturday night. Yes, it was good to be able to veg out on a Saturday night with the pink football papers and watch ‘Match of the Day’, but this Saturday night I was going to be out on a date. Pete dropped me off and informed me that we were meeting at the Craven Arms at eight o’clock. This gave me about ninety minutes to get ready. I decided to go the whole way and even had a bath using some bubble bath that Becky had left behind. It was a bit girly smelling, but I thought it would make me smell nice. Having not used bubble bath since the days of the blue sailor one called ‘Matey’, which promised clean kids and a clean bath, I was not exactly sure how much foam to put in. Perhaps if I use this flower scented pink one again I will use about a quarter of the amount because not only would the bubbles I had created not seem to want to disappear from my body but I smelt like an exhibit at the Chelsea Flower Show. It was too much and I was sure that Pete would make a comment so I tried to hide the smell with some aftershave. Unfortunately the only bottle that I had that was half decent was one that Becky’s mum gave me last Christmas. I had only tried it once and didn’t really care for the smell but I desperately needed something to hide the scent of flowers.
I tried on my favourite black button fly jeans which Becky always said showed my bottom off well. I only wore them on special occasions because I found the button fly very difficult if I had a few drinks and had to go for a wee. Standing by a urinal spending minutes trying to correctly fasten all the stiff buttons always made me worry that somebody would think I was dong something dodgy with my private bits. I was going to go for it tonight and hopefully avoid having to empty my bladder during the evening. The only problem was that over the last couple of months since joining the jilted club I hadn’t really been eating very much, mainly because I couldn’t be bothered to go shopping. So even for my usual skinny self I was looking very thin. The jeans almost fell right down with the lack of waist. Even with a belt with the buckle in the last hole they were still not secure. Time was running out so with the aid of a Phillips screwdriver I added an extra hole to my belt. Perhaps if I had taken the belt off first I wouldn’t have stabbed myself in the leg with the screwdriver, but it didn’t bleed too much and apart from having to change my white shirt no harm was done. I put my black shirt on instead and couldn’t really tell if I looked fashionable or as if I was going to a funeral. My hair was desperately in need of a visit to the hairdressers with a number of added curls appearing in unexpected places. Also I noticed an unwanted grey hair on the left-hand side which I am sure was not there when I was preparing for the wedding. Was it stress or the first real signs of aging? At 29 had I peaked? Would it be all downhill from now with hair going grey and then dropping out? Would I have to start taking a change of pants out with me to stop me smelling of wee because I dribble after I have been for a pee? There was no time to get depressed now though as I had to be ready for my date. With a quick yank I pulled out the offending grey hair. Maybe I could start dying my hair if it got any worse.
As always I was very punctual and reached the Craven Arms at five to eight. Normally I would arrive ten minutes early but decided I didn’t want to appear too keen. Pete wasn’t there yet, but Pete was often late so I looked around to see if I could see two ‘crackers’ inside. For some reason I hadn’t asked Pete anything about what Denise was like. Perhaps I didn’t really want to know so I didn’t have any preconceived ideas. I mean if Pete had said she had a great personality knowing Pete it would have meant ‘she is not much to look at’. I didn’t care what she was like it was just a relief to be out on a Saturday night. The Craven Arms was not one of our usual pubs so I assume Pete had chosen it because it would have the least number of his ex’s there. It wasn’t bad little pub though and I had taken Becky there once and we had had quite a romantic night at the table to the right of the log fire sharing a bag of dry-roasted peanuts and making one round of drinks last all night.
It is nearly ten past eight before Pete walks in with two girls. One of them was a quite stunning brunette with a tight silver top on and a short black skirt. She was maybe lacking a few pounds in the vital areas but oozed confidence in her designer mirror sunglasses even though it was pitch black outside. Behind Pete and this attractive lady was another girl who wasn’t really in the same league but had a cute look about her. She was quite short and dumpy with blonde highlights in her short brownish hair and a West Bromwich Albion scarf round her neck. This I thought must be the friend Denise. Apart from the scarf and the considerable height difference to me I was quite intrigued by this stranger. To my surprise Pete introduced the woman in the Albion scarf to me first as Lyn. It seemed that my date Denise was actually the more glamorous of the two girls with Pete. This was certainly a turn-up.
Next Week : Denise or Lyn?
Monday, December 28, 2009
Week 9 - Nan's Dating Agency
Chapter 5 Approaching Thirty
It had now been forty-nine days since the day my bride failed to show and I was surviving. Pete was great and my parents seemed to take it in turns phoning to check I was still alive. Frequent offers of dinners also came from my parents and generally everything was alright. I decided to pull out of buying the house in Alrewas much to the annoyance of Mr. Williams who was in the middle of buying this flat. Becky hadn’t been in touch and I had no idea where she was, but I wasn’t going to go looking. If she wanted payment for the flat I would deal with that when it happened. The mortgage was in my name and the payments going from my account so at the moment I didn’t need to act on this.
In three weeks time it will be my thirtieth birthday and I was slightly depressed about this. Trying to think about where my life was going. Two months ago I was going to be married by the time I reached the big three O. Now I was single and my future was very undecided. Would I ever marry? Would I ever hear the patter of tiny feet? Would I ever be called Granddad? I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself just unsure about what I was supposed to do. Pete advised celebrating my birthday in a big way to show the world that Jonathan Sadler was back. That didn’t seem like a good idea. I mean a party full of couples and me and Pete. Perhaps I could send Becky an invite, but as she didn’t turn up to our wedding I doubt she would turn up to my party. In the last few days I had started to feel some resentment towards Becky. It wasn’t the jilting me that hurt it was the not saying exactly what was wrong. Was it something I had done? Or was something else going on in her life that I had not been involved in?
If your partner dies how long is it acceptable to grieve before going back out on the pull? This is how I was feeling. Part of me wanted to try and find a woman because I didn’t want to be completely single when I entered the fourth decade of my life. I did miss the flirting and the seducing even before Becky left. The thrill of the chase has always been the best part for me. Which is probably why I had always turned down offers of one night stands. To me, taking four months to completely seduce an attractive lady to a state where she wanted me more than anything else was much more satisfying than just meeting.
I had been summoned to my Nan’s Old People’s home and told to arrive at seven o’clock exactly. Nan had said that I could then see her for half an hour and be off by the time Coronation Street started. It wasn't really a convenient time to go as I wanted to see the end of the football on Sky, but it was Nan and she said it was important. The home was quite deep in the countryside and had hairy cows in the field behind the back. Nan had chosen well and it was quite an upmarket home. My Granddad had owned four houses so his death left my Nan surprisingly well off. She must have spent quite a large portion of this wealth during her Jessy years though, but still could afford to stay at this top of the range Old People’s Home. The staff all wore pink uniforms which looked quite good on some of the girls but this was perhaps a touch camp for the male nurses. It was quite a pleasant environment in the Lounge, though, because most of the household were quite compos-mentis and it wasn’t like the usual home. They tended to sit in small groups instead of being spread around the room. When I arrived Nan was holding court with three gentlemen and blatantly flirting with two of them. One of the carers, Jenny, asked me if she could have a word. The conversation started with Jenny saying she was sorry to hear about me being jilted, but she wouldn’t be able to go out with me next Tuesday because she went dancing with her boyfriend every Tuesday. Obviously Nan had been trying to set me up. At least she had good taste because Jenny was particularly nice with a smile that always caught my eyes. I tried to apologise for my Nan’s forwardness, but Jenny laughed and said she understood totally. Jenny had something she needed to discuss with me or my Dad the next time he came. She said it was a sensitive matter about Nan’s recent behaviour. I decided that I was ready to represent the family on this issue. Jenny explained, rather apologetically, that things could not go on as they are. I asked what my Nan had done now. She said that it was just that some of the other families had complained. This didn’t sound good and I don’t think Jenny, even with her warm smile, was finding this easy to say. Eventually we got to the point. Nan had been leading some late night strip poker sessions and old Mrs. Gidman had told her son how she was left braless after a session last Thursday. The thought of the ninety-five year old, teethless Mrs. Gidman topless was an image I needed to quickly lose from my mind, but try as I could it was still there as wrinkly as a tortoise’s neck.
Nan introduced me to Neville, Len and Clive. She said, “it’s like that film, Three men and an old lady”. For once Nan was dressed like a real Nan with a long skirt and a shawl around her shoulders. She had quite a lot of clothes on for this time of year. Perhaps she was planning another game of strip poker. Very suddenly Nan instructed the gentlemen to disperse. Len took the opportunity to give Nan a peck on the lips. It wasn’t a pleasant sight but I suppose you don’t get many chances of a snog when you get to that age. Clive was the least mobile of the three old men and even with his zimmer frame it took him several minutes to get back to the other side of the room. Nan was quite agitated and obviously had some news to tell me. If it was about the midnight geriatric games I already knew. There seemed to be something else on her mind and I started to have the worrying feeling that my lovelife was involved. Very quickly my worries were proved correct as it became apparent that my Nan was on operation ‘find Jonathan a woman’. Jenny had just been the start of it. The real plan soon became known. Nan introduced me to Mr. Singh or Ally as she had started to refer to him as. She pointed to an elderly man in the far left of the room who was wearing a very bright orange turban and had quite a bushy grey beard that I appeared to have in a hairnet. Mr. Singh gave us a little wave to acknowledge he had seen us. Nan started to wave back an even blew him a kiss. It was obvious that these two had been talking about me and the lack of romance in my life. “Good news”, Nan said quite sharply.
Why did I sense that this was not going to be good news for me? “I have found you a replacement wife”, was the dreaded words that were to follow. Soon things became painfully clear and my worse fears were all coming home. My Nan and Mr. Singh had setup an arranged marriage for me. Mr. Singh had an unmarried Grand-daughter who was supposed to marrying the son of a doctor until the doctor’s son was caught kerb crawling in Aldridge. I was being setup for an Arranged Marriage. Nan informed me that Mr. Singh’s grand-daughter, Hasmir, wasn’t a minger and was in fact pretty hot. She would be here soon and Nan informed me she was looking forward to meeting me. At least we were going to be allowed to meet prior to our wedding day.
“Nan I am not a Sikh and I am quite able to organise my own lovelife”, I shouted rather too loud given the number of people in the room.
“Well, you’ve made a crap job of it so far”, Nan snapped back. “Where is Becky again?”
I could tell that Nan was in one of those stubborn moods and I would just have to lump it for a bit. But Nan was right about one thing Hasmir certainly wasn’t ‘a minger’. She entered the room looking completely radiant and kissed her grandfather on the cheek. She looked beautiful and reminded me of the Princess on the Aladdin cartoon. Maybe it was worth a go after all. My Nan gave me a nudge to indicate that she thought Hasmir was, in her words, ‘a bit of alright’. Hasmir was dressed very European with jeans and quite a figure hugging white top in fact quite a trendy. Should I go over and introduce myself?
As I started to walk towards Hasmir and her Grandfather I felt myself being pulled back by a strange force. It was Nan’s stick which she had used like a fishing rod to hook around my jeans and prevent me from escaping.
“Slow down tiger, you don’t want to seem to keen”, Nan said unusually quiet for her.
“I was just going to be a gentlemen and introduce myself”, I protested.
“We don’t want you ruining things yet. Ally and me still haven’t agreed on the price.”, Nan informed me.
Any hope of having Hasmir as my birthday date faded fast when she started arguing with Mr. Singh. I couldn’t hear all she was saying but it seemed to roughly translate to, ”I wouldn’t be seen dead with that lanky git”. Oh well it was probably for the best.
It had now been forty-nine days since the day my bride failed to show and I was surviving. Pete was great and my parents seemed to take it in turns phoning to check I was still alive. Frequent offers of dinners also came from my parents and generally everything was alright. I decided to pull out of buying the house in Alrewas much to the annoyance of Mr. Williams who was in the middle of buying this flat. Becky hadn’t been in touch and I had no idea where she was, but I wasn’t going to go looking. If she wanted payment for the flat I would deal with that when it happened. The mortgage was in my name and the payments going from my account so at the moment I didn’t need to act on this.
In three weeks time it will be my thirtieth birthday and I was slightly depressed about this. Trying to think about where my life was going. Two months ago I was going to be married by the time I reached the big three O. Now I was single and my future was very undecided. Would I ever marry? Would I ever hear the patter of tiny feet? Would I ever be called Granddad? I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself just unsure about what I was supposed to do. Pete advised celebrating my birthday in a big way to show the world that Jonathan Sadler was back. That didn’t seem like a good idea. I mean a party full of couples and me and Pete. Perhaps I could send Becky an invite, but as she didn’t turn up to our wedding I doubt she would turn up to my party. In the last few days I had started to feel some resentment towards Becky. It wasn’t the jilting me that hurt it was the not saying exactly what was wrong. Was it something I had done? Or was something else going on in her life that I had not been involved in?
If your partner dies how long is it acceptable to grieve before going back out on the pull? This is how I was feeling. Part of me wanted to try and find a woman because I didn’t want to be completely single when I entered the fourth decade of my life. I did miss the flirting and the seducing even before Becky left. The thrill of the chase has always been the best part for me. Which is probably why I had always turned down offers of one night stands. To me, taking four months to completely seduce an attractive lady to a state where she wanted me more than anything else was much more satisfying than just meeting.
I had been summoned to my Nan’s Old People’s home and told to arrive at seven o’clock exactly. Nan had said that I could then see her for half an hour and be off by the time Coronation Street started. It wasn't really a convenient time to go as I wanted to see the end of the football on Sky, but it was Nan and she said it was important. The home was quite deep in the countryside and had hairy cows in the field behind the back. Nan had chosen well and it was quite an upmarket home. My Granddad had owned four houses so his death left my Nan surprisingly well off. She must have spent quite a large portion of this wealth during her Jessy years though, but still could afford to stay at this top of the range Old People’s Home. The staff all wore pink uniforms which looked quite good on some of the girls but this was perhaps a touch camp for the male nurses. It was quite a pleasant environment in the Lounge, though, because most of the household were quite compos-mentis and it wasn’t like the usual home. They tended to sit in small groups instead of being spread around the room. When I arrived Nan was holding court with three gentlemen and blatantly flirting with two of them. One of the carers, Jenny, asked me if she could have a word. The conversation started with Jenny saying she was sorry to hear about me being jilted, but she wouldn’t be able to go out with me next Tuesday because she went dancing with her boyfriend every Tuesday. Obviously Nan had been trying to set me up. At least she had good taste because Jenny was particularly nice with a smile that always caught my eyes. I tried to apologise for my Nan’s forwardness, but Jenny laughed and said she understood totally. Jenny had something she needed to discuss with me or my Dad the next time he came. She said it was a sensitive matter about Nan’s recent behaviour. I decided that I was ready to represent the family on this issue. Jenny explained, rather apologetically, that things could not go on as they are. I asked what my Nan had done now. She said that it was just that some of the other families had complained. This didn’t sound good and I don’t think Jenny, even with her warm smile, was finding this easy to say. Eventually we got to the point. Nan had been leading some late night strip poker sessions and old Mrs. Gidman had told her son how she was left braless after a session last Thursday. The thought of the ninety-five year old, teethless Mrs. Gidman topless was an image I needed to quickly lose from my mind, but try as I could it was still there as wrinkly as a tortoise’s neck.
Nan introduced me to Neville, Len and Clive. She said, “it’s like that film, Three men and an old lady”. For once Nan was dressed like a real Nan with a long skirt and a shawl around her shoulders. She had quite a lot of clothes on for this time of year. Perhaps she was planning another game of strip poker. Very suddenly Nan instructed the gentlemen to disperse. Len took the opportunity to give Nan a peck on the lips. It wasn’t a pleasant sight but I suppose you don’t get many chances of a snog when you get to that age. Clive was the least mobile of the three old men and even with his zimmer frame it took him several minutes to get back to the other side of the room. Nan was quite agitated and obviously had some news to tell me. If it was about the midnight geriatric games I already knew. There seemed to be something else on her mind and I started to have the worrying feeling that my lovelife was involved. Very quickly my worries were proved correct as it became apparent that my Nan was on operation ‘find Jonathan a woman’. Jenny had just been the start of it. The real plan soon became known. Nan introduced me to Mr. Singh or Ally as she had started to refer to him as. She pointed to an elderly man in the far left of the room who was wearing a very bright orange turban and had quite a bushy grey beard that I appeared to have in a hairnet. Mr. Singh gave us a little wave to acknowledge he had seen us. Nan started to wave back an even blew him a kiss. It was obvious that these two had been talking about me and the lack of romance in my life. “Good news”, Nan said quite sharply.
Why did I sense that this was not going to be good news for me? “I have found you a replacement wife”, was the dreaded words that were to follow. Soon things became painfully clear and my worse fears were all coming home. My Nan and Mr. Singh had setup an arranged marriage for me. Mr. Singh had an unmarried Grand-daughter who was supposed to marrying the son of a doctor until the doctor’s son was caught kerb crawling in Aldridge. I was being setup for an Arranged Marriage. Nan informed me that Mr. Singh’s grand-daughter, Hasmir, wasn’t a minger and was in fact pretty hot. She would be here soon and Nan informed me she was looking forward to meeting me. At least we were going to be allowed to meet prior to our wedding day.
“Nan I am not a Sikh and I am quite able to organise my own lovelife”, I shouted rather too loud given the number of people in the room.
“Well, you’ve made a crap job of it so far”, Nan snapped back. “Where is Becky again?”
I could tell that Nan was in one of those stubborn moods and I would just have to lump it for a bit. But Nan was right about one thing Hasmir certainly wasn’t ‘a minger’. She entered the room looking completely radiant and kissed her grandfather on the cheek. She looked beautiful and reminded me of the Princess on the Aladdin cartoon. Maybe it was worth a go after all. My Nan gave me a nudge to indicate that she thought Hasmir was, in her words, ‘a bit of alright’. Hasmir was dressed very European with jeans and quite a figure hugging white top in fact quite a trendy. Should I go over and introduce myself?
As I started to walk towards Hasmir and her Grandfather I felt myself being pulled back by a strange force. It was Nan’s stick which she had used like a fishing rod to hook around my jeans and prevent me from escaping.
“Slow down tiger, you don’t want to seem to keen”, Nan said unusually quiet for her.
“I was just going to be a gentlemen and introduce myself”, I protested.
“We don’t want you ruining things yet. Ally and me still haven’t agreed on the price.”, Nan informed me.
Any hope of having Hasmir as my birthday date faded fast when she started arguing with Mr. Singh. I couldn’t hear all she was saying but it seemed to roughly translate to, ”I wouldn’t be seen dead with that lanky git”. Oh well it was probably for the best.
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