6.55 p.m. I am sat on my sofa squashed between Harry and Toby, who are all watching TV.
Tonight I have a date with Gordon. He’s 38, the lead singer of a rock band and drives a motorbike. I was surprised when he started winking at me on my dating app as I don’t normally go for men like Gordon.
After a long discussion, in the work canteen with the girls from Accounts, over whether I should change my dating preferences, I agreed to go on a date with Gordon. As they correctly pointed out, life is all about experimenting. They used Sheila from Office Services as an example:
- Sheila (55), divorced,
- A lover of hand knitted cardigans and long flowery skirts.
- Sheila was miserable with her dating choices. She mainly played in the over 65 market but it was clear men aged 65 and over were making her moody and a pain to be around.
- Things changed dramatically when she started experimenting with younger men. Sheila struck up a relationship with Terry, 36, and swapped hand knitted cardigans, long skirts and a grumpy look for tight fitting tops, short skirts and a crazy happy facial expression.
Earlier this afternoon Shaz and I sat on my bed, discussing my outfit for a date with Gordon who is taking me tin pin bowling.
“I think I will go for something casual,” I said, thinking about some nice linen trousers and a fancy top.
“Roxy!” exclaimed Shaz, pointing at Gordon’s photo on my phone. “You can NOT go casual on a date with someone like Gordon. He’s a wild rock dude!’
I shot Shaz a look of concern. “I know that but I am at my best in comfy linen trousers.”
“He will not be expecting you to rock up in sensible Mum on the Run type trousers!” exclaimed Shaz. I watched as she unwrapped her sixth Snickers bar of the day.
“He’s taking me bowling so I will need to go practical with my fashion choices,” I said, standing up from the bed to search my wardrobe.
“Oh come on Roxy! said Shaz. “This bowling thing will be some sexy ploy. Gordon will sweep you into his big muscular arms and pop you on the back of his powerful motorbike,” drooled Shaz. “He will then zoom off with you clutching onto his ginormous ripped chest.”
We both went silent. I gazed dreamily out of the window and imagined myself urging Gordon to drive faster whilst feeling the wind through my hair.
I talked first. “Do you really think he won’t want to go bowling?”
Shaz raised her perfectly sculptured eyebrows at me. “Do you think the lead singer of ‘The Metal Gods’ is going to go ten pin bowling?”
I looked at Gordon’s photo. “You have a point Shaz. But what do I wear?”
A mischievous grin spread across Shaz’s tanned face. “Roxy Collins, you need to connect with your inner biker chick!”
My mouth fell open in surprise. “After having three kids and two failed relationships I don’t think I have an inner biker chick!”
Shaz smiled. “She’s been inside you all along. It is now time to connect with her….and Gordon LOL!’
I shook my head. “I don’t have an inner biker chick Shaz!”
Shaz rose from my dressing table stool. “Have you not had a strong urge to dress head to toe in leather and do that thing with a motorbike helmet, where you remove it, shake out your hair, whilst looking amazing?”
“The only urges I get are to sit on my sofa with a cup of tea and open up Facebook” I replied.
Shaz came to stand by me. “You have never lived! Trust me, once you connect with your inner biker chick life won’t be the same!”
I gave her a puzzled look. “When have you connected with your inner biker chick?’
“The postman liked me in leather…” mumbled Shaz.
An awkward silence descended on us both.
I spoke first. “This connecting with my inner biker chick business is not going to happen as I don’t have anything suitable” I whimpered.
“Hang on, let me make a quick call to Useful Kim” said Shaz, scrolling through her phone.
“No Shaz please don’t call Useful Kim!” I barked.
Shaz shook her head and put the phone to her ear.
“She’s never been useful!” I screeched, remembering the last time we had to call upon Useful Kim. We were going on a hen do which involved dressing up as sexy mermaids and needed a suitable outfit. I had been having grand visions of looking like some sort of aquatic beauty and using the occasion to catch an attractive sailor in my net as the bar we were going to is normally filled with navy recruits.
Useful Kim owns a fancy dress shop. We have all wondered how she stays in business as her costumes are the worst on the planet. Shaz and I were desperate, as we had left buying an outfit to the last minute. Shaz swore blind that Useful Kim would sort us out. We ended up looking like a right pair of rough old trouts! I have never seen grubby looking fish tails like the ones we wore and the shell encrusted bra tops had shells missing.
Shaz got off the phone and winked “All sorted. Her son is going drop off a biker chick outfit!”
Useful Kim’s son Trevor dropped off the outfit later. I nearly had heart failure when I unwrapped the polythene cover. Useful Kim had, for once, come up trumps! It was a sexy looking black leather jacket and some amazing fitted black leather trousers.
“OMG look at that!” squealed Shaz as I hung it up. “Wow you are going to look like a badass sexy biker chick…I am totes jealous!”
Euphoria shot up my spine as the daydream about me on Gordon’s motorbike came rushing back to me.
“Shaz I think this is what my life has been missing!” I say stroking the black leather jacket.
“Your inner biker chick won’t you down now what you going to wear on your feet?” asked Shaz staring at my shoe rack.
“Red stilettos,” I replied. “Hang on I never took a note of how tall he was.”
Shall placed her hand on my arm. “He’s going to be a giant of a man, I can tell by that photo. The lead singer of the Metal Gods will not be a weed.”
I nodded in agreement and went back to gazing at my biker chick outfit. Useful Kim had started living up to her name.
It was only when I put the outfit on after my bath that I came to the following conclusions:
- Useful Kim should never be trusted.
- This date with Gordon is going to be a physical challenge.
7.02 p.m. I am waiting for Brian, my land lord to come give me a lift to the local bowling alley.
Gordon’s photo is on my phone and I am gawping at it. Harry leans over my shoulder. “Wow is he going to be our new Dad?’
“Its a first date Harry,” I say.
“I would like a Dad with a motorbike,” coos Harry.
“You have a Dad with a tropical fish shop,” I say.
Harry mumbles something and goes back to watching TV.
My eyes settle on Gordon’s long hair. My mind recalls my earlier conversation with Shaz about his hair.
“Do you think he looks after his hair?” I asked, showing Shaz a photo of Gordon stood outside a betting shop.
One of my pet hates in life is hair that’s not been looked after properly. I am obsessed with the condition of my own hair, Matilda’s hair and the boys hair. This is the main reason why I spend so much of what little money I do have in the expensive hair dressing salon on the high street. I would rather starve than have dry, split ends.
Shaz snatched the phone away from me and stared at Gordon’s locks.
“My mum had a neighbour like Gordon and he was forever telling my mum over the fence about his hair care routine.”
“Really?” I asked, hoping that Gordon has the same approach to hair.
“Mum said this neighbour disagreed with her hairdresser over what conditioning hair treatment to use on her perm”.
A worrying thought ran through my mind. What if Gordon and I got serious and he disagreed with the expensive hair salon on the high street on my hair?
7.03 pm. Brian is at the door and is talking to Harry.
It is time for me to make a move. Matilda saunters into the lounge just at the right time.
“Help your Mam get up!” I say holding out my arms and wondering whether the blood is still circulating in my legs, underneath the skin tight leather trousers.
She yanks me to my feet and her jaw falls to the floor at the sight of me.
“OMG Mam…don’t you think you are too old for that look?” she asks, with a look of terror on her face.
“Tonight I am connecting with my inner biker chick” I say, shuffling towards the door and cursing Useful Kim in my head. I just hope Gordon is not expecting me to bowl or leap onto his motorbike.
“You look like her out of Grease!” pipes up Toby, making me smile. He’s right I am Olivia Newton John.
“She wasn’t as old as Mam,” corrects Matilda, making me grimace.
“Good God Roxy!” exclaims Brian shaking his head in disapproval at me.
“Can we go now?” I ask as Brian heads off down the path towards his car.
I stand on the edge of my doorstep and wonder how on Earth I am going to make it down the path to the car in this restrictive leather outfit. What I need is a little kickstart.
“Matilda,” I call out. “Can push your Mam out of the door..gently does it!”
Matilda shoves me out sending me careering down the path.
Brian helps me into the car, whilst muttering stuff under his breath.
7.23 p.m We are en route to the Bowling Alley. I think I have lost all circulation to my thighs.
7.28 p.m. Brian is pulling upside the bowling alley and I can see no leather clad rock legend. The only person is some small man with a pony tail who is wearing jeans and a scruffy t shirt.
I wait as Brian scoots round to open the passenger door and pull me out of his car. “I will wait in the car till he turns up. I can’t have you stood on a street corner looking that,” he snaps.
As I try to gain my balance on my huge red stilettos and urge blood to circulate into my leather clad legs a huge motorbike roars past the bowling alley. I shiver with date anticipation as the black monstrous machine flashes by. It must be Gordon. I am raising a hand and giving him a wave. Bless him he must be looking for somewhere to park.
Oh he looks like he has spotted me and is turning round. “Gordon!” I squeal, waving frantically at the leather motorcyclist.
The small man with the ponytail has come over to me. I am tottering away from him as he looks like a dirty student with those ripped jeans, old t shirt and grubby trainers.
My attention reverts back to the road as the motorbike has pulled up. Wow it looks amazing! Not sure how I am going climb on the back without splitting my trousers.
“Gordon!” I squeal tottering at speed towards the biker., who has not removed his helmet.
I can feel a hand on my arm. I am whirling round to see the man with the ponytail.
“You must be Roxy,” he says. “I’m Gordon, have you dressed up for me?”
I think he must be a student is on drugs as he is clearly NOT Gordon.
“Go away!” I say still moving towards the biker.
“Roxy stop!” speeches the small man, making me freeze. “I am Gordon”.
The blood drains from my face. “But you are….not what I expected!”
Gordon flicks his eyes to the floor. “I wasn’t truthful!”
“About what? ” I screech.
“Everything. I don’t have a rock band and I don’t have a bike,” he mumbles, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
Words fail me.
“Hello gorgeous!” says a deep booming voice. It’s the biker. He’s taken off his helmet and he’s as old as the hills.
“How much do you charge?” asks Granddad on the motorbike.
I shake my head in bewilderment. My inner biker chick fantasy has just evaporated.
“Can we still go on a date?” asks Gordon, tapping me on the shoulder. It is then I notice the state of his hair in that ponytail. Gordon has serious split ends.
I hear Brian’s car door open and I turn round to see Brian rushing towards me. Without saying a word he manoveres me back into his car and we drive away.
Brian my hero!