Every Girl’s Dream

Good news. I’ve finally, after many years and days of searching, found someone who wants to be with me. Someone, even better, of the male gender.

This is what happened:

The Physicist had broken the very most important part of her (or rather ex-Beloved’s but please mention none of this to him) car. The cigarette lighter. No, she doesn’t smoke. It’s where her iPod adapter plugs in. She cannot drive now. It’s fairly tragic.

I was in the aforementioned vehicle trying to save the situation by suggesting the use of matches when I heard a voice.

‘Ceci’ it said.

Blue eyes, curly blond hair, Wellington boots. He was even holding out a flower to me. The boy next door. Every girl’s dream. He is a man of few words but what does say holds great significance in an almost philosophical way. I was, frankly, spellbound. Our conversation went thus:

Every girl’s dream: Ceci!
Me: Ben! (for I knew his name)
Every girl’s dream: Flower (he handed me the flower)
Me: Thank you (polite as ever despite my racing heart)
Every girl’s dream: House (he pointed in the direction of my door, I got the message)
Me: Ok (easy to the last)

He held out his hand. I held out my hand. We walked slowly to the house. The sun was setting, the birds were singing, it was hailing slightly.

Every girl’s dream: Door (obviously an expert on architecture)
Me: Yes
We enter the house.
Every girl’s dream: Cat (obviously an expert on animals)
Me: Yes
Every girl’s dream: Girl (obviously an expert on girls)
Me: Yes (obviously an expert on conversation).

We spent many happy moments together mostly admiring the frogs on his Wellington boots and discussing the merits of the local JCB (whom, because he’s an expert on diggers, he called ‘Bob’).

He even cried when it was time for him to go home.