“I like your pin badge!” exclaims the young woman at the till as I purchase my Veggie Percy Pigs (repeat that several times, fast, later on this eve – after a few celebratory Babychams). The badge being, of course, Wonder Woman. In iconic Bracelets of Victory pose (see below). “My boyfriend took me to a fancy dress shop the other day” she continues “and made me try on that costume. The skirt was SOOOO short! And I’ve got quite a chunky bum.” She mimes “chunky bum“, but I can’t appraise it from my position. Seems fairly standard size though. “And he told me ‘You look JUST LIKE HER!'” she exclaims – flush with delight.
“Isn’t that wonderful” I reply, caught up in her enthusiasm “that he looks at you and sees Wonder Woman.” (I only realise now how I could have sounded a tad insulting; “he looks at you and sees…” probably would have been kinder to say “but you DO look like her!”)
“I know! And you know Eva Mendes? The one with the lips?” (mimes voluptuous lips) “I said; ‘Oh I wish I could look like her. She’s so beautiful’ And he says…” (huge beam) “why would you want to look like her? You’re much better looking!”
“Sounds like you’ve got a good one there” says I “you want to hold onto him!” And we part ways; her lost in thoughts of her loving beau, me with my non-gelatinous pigs and my ten pounds and a penny of petrol.
All stories have a love interest. Even the toughest heroes – 007, Bourne, Wolverine, Bean – have them. However, if you are of a romantic disposition, you might not find much of interest in my unfolding story. For I Solemnly Renounce all things romantic. It’s not that I lack a romantic spirit – it’s jut that it’s all burned out.
I still remember my first love. Flame haired, softly spoken, polite, and, like many lads since, pretty much terrified of me. Gareth his name was. I named a gigantic orange teddy bear after him. We were five. I think I used to chase him. I’ve chased a fair few lads in my time. I sometimes catch the slower ones (slower in terms of fleetness, or mental acuity. Usually both.)
But for me, as for many people, romantic happy endings belong in fairy tales. Along with all the other fluffy stuff like ripped out hearts and dismembered bodies. We are programmed from a ridiculously early age (five years old?!) that life is mostly about finding “the one”. For thirty-four (ana half) years I’ve subscribed to that delusion. Giving it up is liberating. Not only do I now worry less about leg-shaving-rash, but I can concentrate my energies (when I have them) on important things – like Thinking.
So there will be no love interests in the WonderDusty story. There possibly won’t be much of anything. In fact; why are you reading this?
Go forth and have a grand New Year celebration. Kiss your Superman or Wonder Woman, or anyone else you can get a hold of, and enjoy the moment.
It is, after all, all we have.