My One And Only

People often ask me (and by ‘people’ I mean 'my mother'), “Hey Neil, what the hell’s going on with you these days that you never call and tell me if you’re seeing anyone or bring anyone over to visit so I can show them your baby photos and that lovely craftwork you made out of coloured string and nails in 1976 and tell them what a catch you are and how someday you’re gonna make me so proud when you finish inventing that.. um.. whachamacallit... internet thingy you’re always telling me about?” (My mum’s not big on the whole pausing-for-breath fad.)

Reading between the lines, I think she could be enquiring as to whether there might be a special someone in my life, someone for whom she will finally have the perfect excuse to go out and buy a new hat… y’know… in case they have a cold head. Or something.

Anyway, there are two very good reasons I never write about the special person in my life on this blog.

1. I’ve always firmly believed that all that ridiculous gushy-type stuff should remain strictly private, exchanged only between the two parties concerned in a loving and tender fashion, preferably in the form of a carefully worded email or similar medium that doesn’t involve eye contact. Or talking.

2. There hasn’t been anyone to write about…

…until now that is because let me tell you dear reader, things have changed and lately I’ve felt as giddy as a spring lamb on speed, barely able to keep a widening smile off my face, even when the big boys at work taunt me about my new glasses and flush my head down the pan in the first floor toilets by the science lab. The scamps.

It all seems like such a recent whirlwind but if the truth be told, I’ve had my eye on this special someone for some time, observing her from afar (100 feet if you comply with the strict definition of the so-called “restraining order”) and wondering if I’d ever have the nerve to make the first move and tell her how I really feel.

I’m lucky enough to be able to see her every day and I can feel my breath shortening at the same time as my stomach does its little “first flush” somersault whenever I get my initial glimpse of her each morning. She’s gorgeous of course, with curved features so perfect in all the right places that I can barely restrain myself from laying hands on her at every opportunity. When I do though, she responds to my gentle touch in a series of amazingly indescribable ways which are, frankly, amazing, if not easy to describe.

She’s so thoughtful and considerate too. Last Saturday afternoon for example, she was very understanding when I got a call to go out and play a league match for my golf club but we spent almost every other minute of the weekend conversing, opening up to each other and exchanging what we want from the relationship and I was so happy when she allowed me to cradle her in my arms for most of what was a very lazy Sunday. Bliss.

But it’s not all nicey-nicey Sunday-papers-in-bed-while-the-sticky-toffee-pudding-candles-glow-in-the-corner. She’s very open-minded and is letting me try things I’ve only heard about in unsubstantiated urban legends. Not only that but she’s allowed me to VIDEO TAPE us doing these things together. And not only not only that, but she’s also perfectly happy to let me share one those VIDEO TAPES with YOU. How good is THAT?

So here you go. Watch out for the grand opening where she makes her initial appearance in the guise of a famous film we both love. And hark at the jealous, stick-thin supermodels in the background as they enviously watch our rockin' performance. Although now that I’ve found my glasses, that might just be the ironing board. Oh and remember, the camera adds 10lbs!

Cue the 20th Century Fox logo… brrrum pum, brrrum pum, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrum pum…