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My David

by Bobo 

Posted: 27 November 2003
Word Count: 371
Summary: The opening of a piece about getting together with my fiance - all feedback most welcome, as I'm loathe to go any further with it if it's not up-to-scratch. Cheers.

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Understated and underwhelmed by everything going on around you, you stood out for not standing out. Watching. Waiting. Mentally digesting. A not-so-casual observer, surveyor of the social-circus. Banana-skin skidding and water-squirting flowers all about, but your stance on the sidelines had a certain wisdom in its detachment.

As we were introduced I could see you were impressed in your wholly unimpressed way; the nonchalant half-smile you gave me was plenty amidst an otherwise OTT back-drop which was never, could never be, enough. The show continued around us, full throttle, but it somehow faded so that I was no longer aware of its carnival. There was only awareness of us and the feeling I was saved, a swell of relief that you'd found me at long last. Not too late, never too late. Just complicated.

Romance is so difficult to define, to substantiate. My husband talked oh-so-sweetly to me, bought me flowers, expensive jewellery, wrote me poems, sent me cute cards - but it was never romantic, not really. All nice to have, but pretty meaningless. He also liked to sleep with other women. But you and I seemed to have that true romantic connection right from the start. Not conventionally, I guess, but it was definitely there. We talked pretty incessantly. About the most unlikely of subjects. The virtues of The Hay diet springs to mind - in particular, the positive effect it has on one's bowel movements! We truly were talking shit, but it meant something.

I remember your shock when you heard I was married - taken aback because you thought I was too young, with too much life. I swear I saw the blue sparkle of yours eyes dull in that moment, their hopefulness quashed. You weren't alone; it made me sad also. In an instant, our beginning, with all it could offer, mutated. 'Once upon a time' skipped cruelly to 'The End' without any of the fairy-tale happiness in- between. I 'belonged' to someone else. But I needed you, someone real, to make being 'me' alright. How exactly could I reach out to you like that, tell you, in a crowded Friday-night bar, surrounded by a heaving mass of haw-hawing City-type idiots on their ritual end-of-week bender?

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Comments by other Members

The Walrus at 13:34 on 27 November 2003  Report this post
More than up to scratch Bobo. I like the seeming nonchalance with which you drop in lines like 'He also liked to sleep with other women.' I also like the paradoxical nature of this piece: 'We truly were talking shit, but it meant something'. I think it is so true to life.

It's very good. Next instalment...?

The Walrus

Richard Brown at 16:22 on 27 November 2003  Report this post

I concur with the wisdom of The Walrus. Beyond scratch - a goodly gouge (though I guess that 'scratch' in this context is something to do with racing rather than body wounds but never mind, you get my drift I trust). Definitely worth developing. My only hesitation came in the third paragraph. It's clear, from the context, that the 'we'in the third line refers to the fiance and not the ex-husband but I had to check, because the preceding sentences in that paragraph are about the husband.. Worth inserting a phrase to bring the reader back to the main subject?

Whatever, please do give us more.


Bobo at 16:53 on 27 November 2003  Report this post
Thanks so much - just the encouragement I needed guys. I'll stick with it. Richard, you're right re the confusion on 'we'...it'll be changed!

Thanks again,

BoBo x

spud at 19:29 on 27 November 2003  Report this post
Hi Bobo

I really enjoyed this - loved the imagery and felt as if I 'know' David (its the quite ones you've got to be aware of).

Definitly keep this one going

Good luck with it


Fearless at 20:46 on 27 November 2003  Report this post

You have done a fine hob painting both the scenario and the personalities involved, and it moves well (sorry for the timid reference to bowels). I can only agree with 'the others'; write on.



'hob'? I meant 'job'

Bobo at 09:35 on 28 November 2003  Report this post
Cheers m'dears. This'll be a very gradual work-in-progress methinks, but I will stick at it as there's some good, fairly amusing, material in it.


BoBo x

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