Annabel had gone to the States and come back with this book called “Get out there and get yourself a life.” She had insisted she read it. Despite her hatred of self-help books and their self righteous advice that only seemed to work for the writers she had gone through it and decided it needed another title- “Get out there and get yourself a man.”
The writer Kim Bradley thingy … something double barrelled who had been a high flyer in the stock exchange had met Mr Right – a brilliant neurosurgeon; decided that the cut throat world of the New York Stock Exchange had lost its attraction, got married and lived in some gigantic house somewhere in Boston. Sounded like one of those irritating afternoon TV films made in the eighties.
Anyway when Kim had turned 36 her mother had been diagnosed with something serious and had said don’t let me die without seeing you happily married. This had been enough to stop Kim from sitting down and waiting for Mr Right to come to her. She decided to get off her derriere and go track him down.
She had accomplished this by drawing a list of all the places where men liked to hang out or where they just could be found. She would list the American example and had helpfully included the English equivalent just to increase the transatlantic appeal of the book to other singletons across the pond. –
- Train stations/Greyhound buses/ Public Transport/London Underground
- Churches
- Supermarkets/Retail outlets/The Mall
- Hospitals
- The Jailhouse/The Police Station/Fire Station/Army Barracks
- Sports events i.e.- Softball/ Basketball/Football stadium
- Sorority Events/ Alumni Events for Universities i.e. – Association of Lawyers/Doctors/Engineer yearly balls
- The School/Cookie mornings/PTA Events
- The Library/Internet Café
- Bars/The Pub/Discos/Raves/Restaurants
- Theatres/Cinema Houses
- Self –help seminars/ Business world/Seminars/
- Banks
- Car Shows
By the time she got to 14 I was in tears. Of laughter.
“Ooh…number 5 looks promising. All we need to do is to hang outside the police station down the road and look for any of the old Bill to emerge and go up and say to any fit officer….Excuse me…but I’m really lost and I need you to show me the way…
Annabel looked hurt.|” I should have known you will turn the whole thing into a joke….look do you like spending every Friday night at home watching Friends?
I thought long and hard. “Its better than hanging outside ….|”I snatched the book and read the list again in a mock American accent…”Train stations, churches, the Mall, hospitals, the jailhouse….Wow…my mum will like that …looking for men in the jailhouse…I can see shades of Jailhouse rock in there girl…..
Annabel’s lips were a thin red line.
Or whatever. According to her mother she was too choosy or not doing enough to make herself look presentable. Short of asking the next eligible male she saw on the street to marry her she didn’t know what else she was supposed to do.
She was 39 and she should be anxious about her ever advancing biological clock, the fact that she had been single for the past 15 months and that in the past few years she had only had one date which had ended in disaster – he had forgotten his wallet at home (or so he claimed) and his phone kept ringing during the date.
Not good.
“I’m out of here.”
“Enjoy the party.”
“I did invite you but you have to be such a party pooper!”
“It’s Friday. I want to sit down with my hair tied up in a scarf, in my old baggy dressing gown and eat lots of ice –cream while I watch footie.”
“You are such a stereotype.” Annabel walked off. “Except for the football.”
