Diary of an unborn writer #16

I think I might have made my first proposal of marriage.

Not to Evergreen - we broke things off three weeks ago. My heart started crying for the old flame and it wasn't cool to carry on. She was a little upset.

Jewel - the old flame got a call:

"Sky?"

"Yes"

"I'm working out how to react"

It had been seven months and she was cold. The break had torn something in her, still to be fixed.

"I'd rather we didn't speak"

But the details slip. We're both "good" both tough but on an even slide just now. Regular. All conversatorial and convenient and then on saying goodbye she let's slip an old nickname - a chink of light to drive a train through.

The bext day I email and describe a precious future including children and happy times.

A week later we speak (I've sent her poems throughout, she called to find out what I meant).

Amazing - it's like old times. Honest and open and alking practically about a way back. She needs time though - needs to know I won't a runner this time.

I won't. I know.

She'll be in Amsterdam by Spring.

~o~

The work train's stopped for the week and I'm on my way home. I do not like to work but I've found it makes the days off worthwhile.

Two woman began at the office this week: a doll and an angel.

Angel is quiet, beautiful and engaging. In an office otherwise devoid of women, she is a flower attended by a cluster of young male bees. Including me.

Doll reflects her surrounds and lets nothing inside. She talks to herself as she works - an enforced cognitive display in case we think she's seized up and forgotten her. She's an operator, a social machine, shiny smooth without a chink. She is not sweet, though all her moves would tell you so. She is incapable of respecting space and infuriates me with probing: "You don't look too good" in a loud midwest accent - the language of church queues and suppressed anxiety.

Angel is also inconvenient. Infuriatingly attractive and engaged. Kind of takes it off the table though, beng otherwise attached. But us bees, we're suckers for honey and this one strolls around streaming innocence and attention to the most entertaining. I've kicked the humor valve into overdrive since she arrived. She's just here for herself - it's so futile.

Thankfully the Greek with all the best lines and most effortless charm is off next week, away to serve his country's National Service. The floor is left to the techies and me.

~o~

Jewel, meanwhile is experiencing a full frontal assault. I've told her we'll meet, which if it happens will be like the Dam busters busting their Dams. Still waiting for her to move. Which she will. In her heart she knows I'm loving and committed and changing in ways that will further seduce and astinish her.

She views me as untameable - too high a prize for a dignified princess, which she is. Completely ravishing and elegant. I'll know no other like her.

There's something else on my side - I'm unafraid to lose. My lack of fear is so complete she doesn't stand a chance. This is beyond arrogance - it's the determination of a man who sees no other way.

~0~

Who is this hypocrite?

Flirting with angels in coffee breaks and wooing a woman he left ten months ago with the epitaph: "We're done."

Fitting life into a fine equation has never come to easy to this one and I'd suggest you loosen up too. If you knew the symphony Jewel and I had concocted you'd want it back again and again.