First, a fishy update. Juliet has been shunned. She floats about one end of the tank while Alan and Maddy perform water aerobics at the other. She seems quite depressed actually. I hope she doesn't die a recent-pet-shop-purchase death.
So, Male Fish Party Friend calls me at 5.30pm and asks if I'm ready with my list of Shakespeare names to name his 50 fish. Oh yes, I say, very ready. Great, he says, he'll pick me up at 7pm. I swear there was something flirty in his voice. Action stations. Spruced myself up, even putting my expensive perfume on. 6.30pm, I was ready, and sat expectantly in the window.
He arrives! Anticipating a late evening, I yell to mum I'm off to the pub (if I told her I was going to see a fish tank in the hope of securing myself a husband, she'd probably have me committed). Hop in the car. Talk about how work went for him today. Lots of laughing. Get to his house. Sit in his living room. Really do look at the fish, for they are beautiful creatues, and the baby ones are adorable, about 5mm long but perfectly formed, named quite a few...I digress.
So we talked fish. And looked at them. Lots of talk about their mating rituals and how they actually go about doing it. But didn't look at each other. And then he said: "Let's go see your goldies". I mean, really? He wanted to go look at my goldfish? But hey, as you know by now, any excuse to talk about my goldfish...! So back we got in the car. Back to my house. Back to my confused mother who had said goodbye half an hour ago.
We talked and admired goldfish. I won't repeat those bits. Although he agreed Jules looked a bit low.
"Well", he said, "I suppose I better be getting off, some studying to do". We had one of those standing by the back-door moments, where you don't want to open the door because it's like kicking someone out, but you don't want it to get to the point that they're looking at the handle. I think I got the balance right.
With promises on both sides that when I'm over this side from Hull next we must go to the pub, that he's around until August before his branch send him off somewhere in the generic north of England, we simply must go to the pub. Lots of hesitant pauses and looking at each other. I imagine he was wondering why I was staring at him so much.
No kiss, no wedding, no husband, no life. Damn him!
