The International Writers Magazine:In which he asks the question
His perfect mouth with those kissable
lips uttered the words that sent my heart into a flutter. They
rolled off his tongue with such ease. In the exaggerated silence
that followed, whilst I was hypnotized by said gorgeous mouth,
I realised that he probably wanted an answer.
Don't need men. Do we?
He repeated the
question. If I was like most girls the ding dong of wedding bells would
have echoed in my head, fireworks should have exploded and champagne
corks popped, but my heart fluttered for all the wrong reasons. He was
starting to look rejected
I would have to answer soon. Damn why
did he have to ask this question now, at HIS house, when my plans A
and B only work at MY house. Hallelujah his phone is ringing
start wracking my brains for a suitable answer.
Dont get me wrong I love him in all his Adonis glory but could
I really bear living with him for the rest of my life? For example,
the dictionary hardly inspires confidence in the concept of commitment.
It defines it as a "responsibility that restricts freedom of action"
so why would anyone want to actually do it if even the all important
dictionary lacks faith in it? Whats happened to the Independent
Woman celebrated by Destinys Child? Even they have
fallen into the trap of not practicing what they sing.
We dont need men. What good are they for? Apart from fixing the
odd light bulb here and there, and theyre not exactly great at
that considering it takes them five days of sitting in complete darkness
before they actually change it.
I enjoy my freedom thank you, even if it only entails a few piss-ups
with the girlies every so often. I couldnt do that if our relationship
got more serious. He would want to come out with me even if I emphasized
the fact that it was a GIRLS night out, and hint ever so subtly that
he lacks the certain bits. And if he did (miraculously) get the hint,
hed then offer to come pick me up which would rule out the greasy
kebab and drunken gossip on the walk home. The piss-ups would go out
the window and in would come the dreaded dinner parties. Dinner parties
cant exactly get sloshed at them. You have to act the dutiful
host with a fixed smile on your face, whilst you mess up the dinner
and order takeaway from down the road, praying to God that no-one will
notice. (Of course you can get sloshed at other people's dinner
Commitment also comes hand in hand with meeting his parents and that
all important Sunday lunch where his mum gives you evils across the
table and his dad tries to get you drunk or even worse crack jokes that
you forget to laugh at. Plus you try to make polite conversation, which
proves very tricky when all the time youre thinking back to when
you had fantastic sex on this exact dining table when they were on holiday.
And dont even get me started about moving in together. Boys arent
renowned for their cleanliness. Im not saying Im a cleaning
freak (far from it) but I do like things nice and tidy. Also if he moves
in where do I go when I want to get away from him? Hell follow
me round like a love-sick puppy, and if I tell him to politely
go away hell start sulking and ask questions such as Is
it me? and Dont you love me anymore? so I will
then feel guilty if I do actually manage to shake him off.
My hairiness would also become a problem if we co-habited
have to shave my legs (not to mention my bikini line) every day for
fear of him being frightened off by the furry monster that I can quickly
become. And make-up
he would have to see me bare-face in the daylight.
My hideous real face which Ive managed, and gone to great lrengths,
to conceal would be exposed in all its ugliness. Oh no we definitely
cant move in together!
This is only the beginning of what hell ask. Next it will be can
I leave the door open as I go to the toilet or when should we start
trying for kids? O.K. granted I may have thought of their names (Mya
Enola if its a girl, Harry Callaghan if its a boy) but that
doesnt mean I actually want them! God a girl cant even plan
her wedding song (Dont wanna miss a thing by
Aerosmith if youre wondering) without people thinking shes
ready to don a white dress and run up the aisle. So the answer to his
question is a big fat no. Im not ready to have my freedom restricted
just yet. Maybe in a few years time. I just have to tell him that.
Hes just finished on the phone. He repeats his death sentence
question and his sexy eyes plead with mine. I feel myself giving in.
Those eyes are just too irresistible. It might not be that bad I suppose.
The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them (damn his gorgeousness)
"Of course you can leave your toothbrush at mine" I hear myself
© Michelle Attridge November 2005
Curse of the Diet Monster
More stories in Dreamscapes
Michelle is a second year Creative Writing student at the University
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