The art of seduction

Here we are, in 1995.

Students. Just good friends.

Thirteen years later, there we were. Outside a pub in Soho.

My friend and I had spent the evening concocting a plan to make you mine. After several glasses of pinot grigio, the wine had helped us towards a plan worthy of the nimblest-minded geisha in the West. Invite you round for dinner at the weekend, then ask you to help me put together my new TV table from MFI.

We thought it might make you feel indispensable to me and…well, kind of manly.

I’ve since found out that you’re hopeless with a screwdriver. Manipulating nuts and bolts, and securing bits of wood together, brings you out in beads of sweat and gives you a troll-like demeanour.

As seduction plans go, I’d have been better off getting you to fix my ‘broken’ shower. Then turning it on while you were stood underneath. After turning the temperature dial to extra cold.

And, as I later found out, you were off on holiday that weekend anyway.

Your evening had been spent with an old colleague and friends. You composed a text message that looked like it was addressed to many, but really you just sent it to me. Anybody up for a drink? Your friends were going home and you wanted to stay out a bit longer.

You had just wanted to see me again, before you went away.

My friend hadn’t met you before. What remarkable luck that she’d get a glimpse of this magnificent creature we’d spent the evening discussing. When you arrived, the three of us chatted about music and drank beer. She might have thought you were brilliant; she may have decided you were rubbish. I didn’t care. You were my D, and, from that vantage point in time, you always had been. Right from the moment I spotted you across the grounds of our halls of residence.

Curiosity satisfied, my friend made her excuses. You and I finished our drinks, then left to catch the last train back to our ‘hood.

With my seduction plan thwarted by your impending holiday, I knew I had to do something. Quickly.

We paused outside the pub so you could light a cigarette. I went in for a kiss just as you were about to take a drag. The embers nearly singed my face, and you threw the fag onto the floor. Embarrassed, I tried to pretend the kiss had been an accident. Oops. Sorry, sir; I tripped and my lips ended up on yours.

But you kissed me back. Everything was alright. This arch seductress had triumphed in the end.

That was five years ago from Monday.

We spent this anniversary watching documentaries about Margaret Thatcher. We are children of the ’70s, and there is romance in shared history (even the bits we’re not so fond of). As I watched the backdrop of our early lives playing on the screen in front of us, I thanked the stars for letting our shared impulses that evening hold sway.

And for preventing you from destroying my TV table. Because a memorial to Thatcher wouldn’t have been the same unless shown on a wonky table bought from a once-powerful shop, now buried under the ruin of financial greed.

A big thank-you to everyone who helped get me shortlisted as a Fresh Voice in Britmums’ Brilliance in Blogging awards. I’m up against some stiff competition. To vote in the final, click on the badge on the right of this page. 

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40 thoughts on “The art of seduction

  1. Jaime Oliver

    Yay! if i had come up with that cunning plan it would of back fired on me too! Ollie is purely useless with a screwdriver!

    I do love the fact you made it in the end, even if you nearly ended up with a burnt face!

    Thanks for linking up with #magicmoments xx

  2. The Brick Castle

    Excellent post….my partner only met me 9 years ago, but is only 6 months older and our lives followed a similar path before we met. We have a shared history and experience that is priceless, even though we lived 300 miles apart. Everyone’s getting a bit nostalgic at the moment. I really do think it signifies the end of an era, but the resurgence of a lot of old feelings…good, and bad… :)

    1. Nell Heshram

      Yes – a lot of the old fights re-surfacing. But, in my view, what that serves is to highlight how far things have moved on since the Thatcher days. People would be laughed out of the room these days, if they claimed there was ‘no such thing as society’.

  3. Harrovian Mama

    This is sweet and funny! My husband and I took four years to get together with various stops and starts, I never expected to meet ‘the one’ at 17! So glad it worked out in the end! Happy anniversary for last Monday!

  4. Tori Wel

    What an absolutely lovely post and beautiful magic moment. You guys sound like a great couple :). Thanks for linking this to PoCoLo lovely lady and for your valued support xx

  5. Kate on Thin Ice

    Love this post both that you got your man in the end and he you of course. Also the bit about shared history makes so much sense to me and I think really does help a relationship. The bit about the wonky table is so lovely and sweetly poignant.

  6. Lyn

    This did make me smile. I remember trying to play it cool when I met my husband. My friend went to the loo and, feeling a bit exposed on the dancefloor, I decided to wait by the bar. After an hour of glances and whatnot as I’d waited for him to come to me…yes, I strode up to the bar and stood right beside him. He still teases me for stalking him. Grrrr. ;-) Happy Anniversary.

  7. Pingback: My Best Post of The Year - BritMums Carnival special « MarisWorldMarisWorld

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