Every now and again, when Mr Smith is in a mood like he was yesterday, throwing bits of things all over my nice clean kitchen, I envy my single friends. Then I don't. The agony of finding a partner would be too much for me. Actually, having said that Internet Dating Jane seems to have quite good fun searching for Mr I D Jane. Even Tarzan, who swung off into the distant jungle, at least showed her a good time, whizzing her off to New York before he became so mind boggling boring Jane was quite pleased to see the back of his loin cloth. She has lunch dates and dinner dates and even phone dates. On Friday she will actually meet Telephone Man with whom she had a one hour conversation getting all the preliminaries out of the way such as "What kids and wife do you currently have?" etc. He sounds just lovely but they all do to me ... I'm ever the optimist and a bit easy.
Arty Antonia is slightly bereft of partner; she's put him on the back burner or he has removed himself to same. She really ought to eliminate him from her life for good but she won't because the good times outweigh all the hideous heartache - battered wives come to mind here. Men are only selfish children to whom we pander in order to get a little hug back in return. They play at being superheroes and get a bit tantrumy by bed time. Mr Smith is no exception here, off saving the planet then getting all shirty because I haven't mended the hole in his cape. This is a metaphor before you think we dress up in silly costumes and prance round the bedroom - (only on Fridays).
Both these fine women deserve fine men and should be allowed to be happy. After all Mr Smith and I manage it, a bit, sometimes, as we soldier along fairly merrily - together.
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