I got chatted up today and I was tickled pink, it's been donkeys years since that happened. Now I am used to strangers talking to me when I am out and about, although to be fair it is mostly me who instigates it, I am a cheery soul. But today was totally different. I thought it nice and friendly when a young man I stood next to at a pedestrian crossing asked if I was having a nice day, and indeed I was. He then remarked how beautiful I was, beautiful eyes, beautiful hair. At this point I became totally discombobulated, as in Ooo ooo, he's chatting me up, I was caught between 'this is totally inappropriate' and giggly schoolgirl mode. Good heavens said I, I'm old enough to be your grandmother, should have said mother, because he was about mid 30's just to give it context, but nevertheless the compliments continued. I will spare you the details of how wonderful I am, but I will keep them to myself and cherish them forever more. Take note male readers, don't hold back on the compliments, we gals treasure them as much as diamonds. But I had to bring it to an end by pointing out I was over 60, whereby he departed gracefully and I walked away grinning from ear to ear.
Naturally I couldn't wait to tell everyone I know (about 3 people) I got chatted up! Of course I got the asylum missing a lunatic jibes etc, but the best reply goes to SAS (Smart Arsed Son) who said I should have got the number of his dealer. Hmm. I was most delighted at his [chatter upper]compliments for my hair. It is very long, very thick and very blue. Today, any thoughts I had of having it cut into a more age appropriate and much easier to manage, style, went right out the window. I have spent a lifetime and a lot of money on stylish, high maintenance hairstyles, mostly bobs, and do I want to go back to blow drying every day, hell no. Even if I don't wash it for a week, I can still put it up into all sorts of stylish 'dos' that I am learning from the internet. Having never really had very long hair before, I'm experiencing all the joys that the 6 year old me missed out on. Both my mother and my father sheared me of my locks as a child, mostly because I wouldn't let them near me with a brush, comb or shampoo and I kept getting fleas, so I don't hold it against them.
But this major event in my life, the other one was the discovery that you can add spinach to a smoothie and not taste it! Who knew? set me thinking on the onset of the menopause, middle age and old age. And for the purpose of this blog, and by popular demand I will turn now to the menopause, for me, now just a distant, but I have to say, enlightening memory. Never mind the extremes of emotions, the spontaneous crying, the hot flushes and the God help me I am going to murder you rages, I like to focus on the pluses, and jeez, they are major. You get your brain back! Take a minute, let it sink in, remember that bright young science/arts geek you once were before a whiff of testosterone turned you into a wanton strumpet. I have the unique experience of reading a social worker's opinion on my 14 year old self; 'Linda could achieve anything she wants, unfortunately she has discovered boys'. Honest, but ouch. I remember at the time being in love with a boy who loved my best friend who was in love with my brother. Yes, I was at the tail end of this little love cycle, unloved by anyone but the fat kid with a dodgy eye. I will never forget, and even now it brings a lump to my throat, how the love of my life danced with my best friend to 'Hey girl don't bother me' and glared at me with loathing! Ok, I used artistic licence there with loathing, it was more of a 'ffs will you piss off' glare, he might just as well have said, I have the better girl in my arms and it broke my innocent young heart. How could this be, thought I, he liked playing wrestling games with me too? Little did I know, that men like playing wrestling games with lots of girls, doh! And it was on my birthday! Yep, you can reach for the tissues now, the only consolation I have is that he had a big nose (even though it was adoreable).
But let me return to the big issue, getting your brain back. Some may call it losing your mojo which at first glance may appear to be a disadvantage, but all the benefits soon become apparent. No more phoning dealers at 3.00am when you want the part to go on and on and on. Very quickly you will notice the rise in your bank balance and the lowering of your blood pressure, stress levels and yes, chaos in your life. You will quickly see the love of your life, or the infatuation of your life not as Romeo, Heathcliff or Gerard Butler but as flesh and blood males in cardies and slippers. For myself, I was never much enamoured by Romeo, he seemed like a bit of a wuss, but Heathcliff was the man I wanted when my oestrogen levels were high. As a young woman, I wanted to procreate with someone dark, moody, and yes, mad, bad and dangerous to know. Damn you Emily Bronte for awakening all my teenage hormones to the delights of six packs and male passion, credit also to the Diet coke 11.30 ad. And thanks to, to Lady Caroline Lamb, for summing up a penchant for bad boys so succinctly.
I'm trying here to sell loss of mojo as a good thing, and doing very badly. Ha ha, must have been my delightful encounter today, but goodness me, the thought of going on a date or having any kind of encounter with a hmm, gentleman, (a must), has made me come over all unnecessary, as my old pal, Big Lynn, used to say. A charming expression, I hope you will agree. And, as my old dad used to say, mostly after half a bottle of Teachers, 'never on my nelly duff'. I never really understood the meaning, but it was usually accompanied by lively arm movements and a deep sigh, so I got the drift.
Well never on my nelly duff (can someone please tell me what that means, (my dad was a Dundonian) did I think I would ever get chatted up again at this grand old age. That part of my life was firmly locked away when I got my brain back. Men, hmmm. who'd have them! But I like their company and that 'guy' perspective, screams the inner me. Is going on a date with a guy my age, or a tad younger such a bad thing? At least they would remember Tony Blair, Princess Diana, the Beatles and Johnny Rotten. Besides, since getting my brain back, I can quickly distinguish between the gold diggers (I wish lol), those looking for a carer and the downright unpleasant. Not that I have looked, ha ha, the idea, in my school marmish head is 'totally inappropriate'!
Such is life, when we are at our best our reproductive organs and hormones make really dodgy choices that are beyond the control of what little is left of the brain we once had. Never mind the future millionaires and academics, they are looking for the Yorkie bar eaters and silver backs. The nearer the knuckles are to the ground the more desireable they become. Meanwhile the clever fuckers are discovering the joys of rotting fruit and making plans on how to improve their lives without doing any actual work. It has always been the dinosaur slayers over the cave drawers and thus, here we are. So listen bitches (have drunk gin) never mind his biceps and triceps, what has he got in his bank account and is it going up? If you want an Adonis, get a ring on your finger and you will have years to torture him under the guise you are only doing it for his benefit. As an addendum, was going to write an advice book but was afraid it might come across a tad bitter.
I digress as usual. Today's encounter has lifted my spirits in a whole new way. Sadly, the darkness, and the G&T have now kicked in. What if his intention was to abduct me? Highly unlikely, we were in a public place in the centre of the town. Was he harassing me? No, absolutely not. He was a gentleman, polite and respectful throughout, I did not for one moment feel threatened. I felt a bit sad actually that men can no longer approach women or vice versa or whatever which way without fear of causing offence. Why is being friendly so often misinterpreted as aggressive or threatening. As someone who used to describe myself (annoying post grad mature student) as 'Marxist/feminist', I was very naive. I now cringe and steer away from those those who label themselves as feminists now. I hate the #metoo movement and I hate the woke culture that is sucking all the fun, humour, banter and male v female jousting that is part of our genes, our heritage and our culture.
For myself, I really didn't want to again start the paragraph with 'I' again, err, I have always loved being a girl. Just want to get that out there. And those who want to be girls. I'm like yay, come join us -let's talk makeup. I wasn't always so in touch with my feminine side, actually, I was a tomboy little girl who just wanted to beat all the boys up, but I never wanted to be one of them! I was a bit of a sociopath aged 5, world domination was what I was going for. Naturally, I never felt inferior, because, basically, boys were so easy to boss about. Punch the right one in the eye and you have domination. The others will fold. That was why adolescence came as such a shock to me, some of them fight back. It set all my plans back by decades.
Now I have nothing to label myself with. Left, hmm, not so sure, will never get over Corbyn, he is right up with my boy with a big nose, but see nothing for real socialists within the forseeable future, unless of course, JC starts a new party. But even then, I am uncomfortable with the nanny state attitude of the Left and that is what I think scared scared all those Centre people at the last election. We demand our right to eat copious amounts of sugar and invest in pyramid schemes and yet to be established shipping firms. Ears ears' shout the Eton front bench and 'ere ere' shout the right wing football thugs who now believe their interests are aligned with the Tories. I'm one of those who shout 'education, education, education' but how tf do find your way through such density?
I condemned the Labour Left there which was probably unkind, as they are the decent people I feel most aligned to. It is kind of ridiculous that there are areas of this planet where they still suffer the kinds of deprivation experienced by our ancestors in the middle ages. How can anyone be comfortable feeding all their greed, be it diamonds, yachts or designer clothing, yet walk past those who's lives would change overnight for the price they pay for one designer dress. I've been watching Project Runway.... again.
The world is topsy turvey, as always, but maybe that's a good thing. Maybe we have all seen enough sci movies, to see the multiple ways in which it could all go drastically wrong. I'm an old stoner so won't be rushing to a beach to embrace and say farewell to my loved ones as a giant wave engulfs us, I think, having seen, vicariously, the dramatic images of those forever captured in time in Pompeii, my inclination would be to strike a pose, as in Madonna, circa Vogue 1980's.
I would have loved to have had a one hour session with Freud, preferably when he was extolling the virtues of cocaine. I can picture me laid back on his chaise longue, asking 'why is it I love men yet also want to murder them'? I used to pretend my idea of re-laying the patio were all fictional plots (I'm a writer doncha know) but I would love to get together with Picasso for an 'icepick in the back of the head after saying 'while you're up love, get me......'. I think it would encapsulate his art and my underlying psychopathy.
I jest of course. I never thought of murder, except for that one night when I looked longingly at my then new fish filleting knife. Honest to god, it was the kind of knife that would have been beloved of the Silence of the Lambs killer or indeed, Jack the Ripper. I had all sorts of reasons to carry out the heinous act, not least that he added ham to scrambled eggs the next morning. Who does that? But still I am joking, I phoned the 'Samaritans' that night, 'do you want to kill yourself they asked', because that's their job, 'no, said I, I want to kill him!'. I don't think I did really, but I was extremely cross. More than cross, he was the most annoying person I have ever met! If I had lived in the US I would have shot him down, and probably be out by now.
Still jesting. I have no regrets for all those years we spent knocking seven bells out of each other. I do regret that I was so easily taken in by the extremist feminist view that convinced me I was a victim. I was never a victim, and I think it is wrong to indoctrinate women with the idea that they are victims, or somehow at a disadvantage. This new generation of feminists are persuading women that they are weaker and they need help, an advantage over their male counterparts. I hate that attitude. Surely if you win, you want it to be on an equal playing field? It's not really a win if it isn't.
It feels weird to say this but I hate #metoo, I had all those do good organisations that dedicated to persuading niche groups of men, women or any gender that they are victims. Wtf? As an (amateur) historian, I would ask, why would any group (gender) present themselves as weaker than their enemy, their opponent. Who would stand up and say 'I am weaker than you, so give me concessions'. The 5 year old me would say, get the f outta here, let's fight. Whilst I hate #metoo, I think I hate 'woke' culture even more. Bizarrely I find myself siding with otherwise insane, right wing loons, who are saying enough already, on pc language and the woke stuff at least. Lets enjoy being women, men or whatever we choose to be and call a halt to all this 'don't gender assign me' shit. I think of them as the puritans from days gone by, that is, their purpose is to suck all the joy out of life.
And no, I have not gone down the insane route of my friend Sonia Poulton. I don't know where the hell she is coming from in her desire to fight for freedom. Don't get me wrong, I am all for freedom fighting, but demanding the right to prolong a pandemic and ignore science is a step too far on the loony side for me. I picture offering the people of 1917/18 a vaccine against a pandemic that was killing them in thousands turning down a vaccine that would safeguard themselves and their families. Methinks, 'are you f*cking insane' would be their first response.
Apologies, I talk too much, my kindest wishes to all who still look in, I am always chuffed to pieces that people take time out of the day to have a read, even if they love me or hate me. Matters not, I will keep writing, even if I get down to 1, it's kind of like having someone to chat to. Take care, and keep safe, xxx
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