Leanne’s ex-boyfriend, Simon, sets my loins aflame. His face is a treat for the eyeballs and his stature a joy to behold. The slight bluebottle in the ointment is of course the small matter of his ‘ex–of–a–chum’ status. Usually I would jump, legs akimbo, atop any gent who tickles my flirting bone in the correct manner, but when dealing with friend’s ex-partners the situation becomes altogether more tricksome.

It wouldn’t be an issue however if he hadn’t pointed his delicious wares in my direction and made it clear I was welcome to help myself to the goods on offer! When he was with Leanne I always coveted him in envy but he never so much as hinted that he would be keen to munch on my action, which is of course a marvelous thing – there’s few things worse than a man who thinks dallying around with his girlfriend’s mates is a smart idea. But what to do now?

Yesterday he sent me a cheeky little text enquiring as to whether I might be available for a small trip to the cinema and a nibble on something delicious afterwards – I presume he meant dinner!

I am tangled up in a monstrous web of dilemma, and frankly my friends, it’s damned annoying. What if he turns out to be the chap of my destiny? Maybe the baby Jesus (and/or any other religious deity) has a plan for us to wander down the seafront paw¬–in–paw when we are both grey haired and wrinkly, but I go and scupper his plans by refusing to date him. Maybe I’ll never find love again? Zoiks! Nobody needs that worry on their conscience. So perhaps I should go. Perhaps I should pop all memories and thoughts of Leanne in a small box and stick them in the cupboard under the stairs with the Blue Peter tortoise and see whether Jesus really does have such a plan for Simon and I.

I suppose that if I keep it under the proverbial cloth cap for the immediate time being no harm shall be done. And if this does become a love affair on a scale of Ken and Deidre I can decide to confess all to our Leanne and take it from there.

There is of course, always the chance that he will be an aching great toss–bag of enormous proportions. After all, Leanne did decide to hand him the raspberry and call it a day. But in these situations it seems sensible to keep the mind open and the underpants in place, at least, that is, until his potential toss-bag credentials are fully ascertained.

Be Sociable, Share!

•