Falling at the First Hurdle

This weekend is Grand National weekend, and a pretty big deal. The Aintree races attract a huge number of visitors to the city. Yesterday was Ladies Day, and after an afternoon enjoying the races, people generally flock into the city centre to enjoy the bars. But aswell as those who have been betting on the horses, there is another group roaming the streets of Liverpool hoping their gamble pays off. That group is largely male; their prey the herds of Ladies Day women easy to spot in their large hats and formal clothing. I would just like you to bear this demographic in mind when I ask you a question in a paragraphs time.

I too was in town, having spent a lovely afternoon shopping with my sister and meeting up with Studmuffin in The Living Room at five for after-work drinks. I bought a sixties style shift dress thing, and my sister bought this really glamorous red dress in my size, which I will totally be borrowing at the first available opportunity (this means I will have to encourage her to wear it fairly soon, because borrowing something that's brand new isn't really cricket. Once it's had its first dry clean it's up for grabs.)

Now let me direct you to a sentence from a recent post of mine entitled 'Oh no, I'm that girl.'

I imagine myself shopping on a warm sunny day in town with MJ or somebody and spotting him in a bar at the same moment he notices me and exchanging a smile and not even talking to each other but just that little thing causes a spark and something picks back up again.

So, here's the question: guess who I bumped into?

It wasn't a bar, it was the slightly less romantic location of outside-Burger-King. And there was no spark (or I don't know, was there a spark, despite the awkardness?) and no picking back up of anything. I had been happily walking along between my sister and 'Muffin, minding my own business and probably talking about some totty 'Muffin had just spotted on our walk from bar to bar, when I looked up and saw Alfie. He was standing with his legs wide apart, pelvis forward, hands in pockets, grinning and waiting for me to notice him. The first thing I noticed, even from a distance, was that the receeding hairline had gone into major retreat. Not to be bitchy, because I still totally would, but he looked terrible.

Let's take a moment to discuss the outfit. As someone who prides himself on labels and fashionable ensembles, and who had the front to appoint himself as a style guru to 'Muffin, he ought to be ashamed of himself. It was even worse than the woolly scarf teamed with short sleeved white shirt in a hot club fiasco, a look that will for ever be associated with Quentin Crisp in my mind (thanks to Wondy.) There were wide linen trousers. White ones. With a visible ghetto-gold coloured zipper. There were tan coloured deck shoe things which defy description. And a black Russell Brand-ish shirt, which had only one button fastened and bared a hairy chest and silver dog tags. If I'd had my wits about me, there would have been serious piss taking going down.

As it was I said hello, introduced my sister, endured a kiss on the cheek fairly well, and then thanked God that 'Muffin was there to carry on a sensible conversation as I edged closer to my sister for security and shook like a leaf, heart pounding like a frantic bird trying to escape from my chest. While I was talking to him, I noticed his mates over his shoulder grinning away at me knowingly. Alfie looked me up and down, looked my sister up and down, looked me up and down again and said: "You do know you look nothing alike?" We laughed and I told him I was the milkman's. I can't remember what else was said, I recall him referring to 'Muffin as his 'Padawan learner', and me joking that 'Muffin could teach him a thing or two and my voice being a little too clipped. Then the mate who gave me a lecture about self-respect on the Christmas night out (whom I regret listening to) came over and I made our excuses and left.

Here is 'Muffin's take on the encounter:

Chica: I can't remember his face, just his fod (forehead)! And what was the outfit like! My sis will be seriously questioning my taste in men!

'Muffin: He wears that quite often

Chica: He looked a show in it, like a reject off Eldorado
'Muffin: Like your sister said... the way he stood said it all... HAHAHAHAHAHA HE DID!!!
Chica: And yet, my heart was still hammering in my chest and I was shaking like a fucking leaf!
'Muffin: Yeah but you didn't show it, you were uber cool. Especially when you said we'd better get going. It was like "Yeah... whatever.... I'm with my mates and I ain't got time to be dazzled by your fod!"

Love that guy.

For the record, I was wearing my Peaches Geldof dress, and looked so much better than he did, even if I do say so myself!

And yes, still completely besotted, obviously.