Some people in this world are my girlfriends even though they don't know it and I have never actually talked to them or really acknowledged them in any way at all (
For example, this one is mine, so hands off). Those things aren't important. The point is that I love them and if they knew who I was and that I existed at all they would almost certainly love me too, so what's the point in getting all formal and making an official arrangement when this is so obviously the case anyway? It's embarrassing having to talk to strangers and more embarrassing to tell them that you love them and even more embarrassing to tell them that they love you too and some things can just go unsaid in this world. It's all part of the medieval system of courtly love that I have always been a strong advocate of, as it saves on flowers, chocolates and texting. No RSI for me.
One of the women who is unaware that she is my girlfriend is the lifeguard at the swimming pool at my Health Club. She is very pretty and friendly (to the people who talk to her, which would include me if I had the courage to do anything but nod at her when I walked by) and I think comes from Europe somewhere (judging by the conversations I have surreptitiously listened to when swimming near her). Looking at her and by sort of guessing, I can tell that I would be her perfect life partner, but I would never break the courtly love code and tell her this, because that would involve the expense of taking her out to dinner and the probable imposition of court orders. And it would be difficult to swim in the pool if I was not allowed within a hundred metres of her. Especially as it's only a twenty metre pool.
However, I do not think I am being unreasonable in believing that although she doesn't directly know of our relationship that she should respect it nonetheless and at least remain faithful to me.
So you can imagine how disappointed I was when I got to the pool today and saw her talking with a fat, middle aged bald man who was standing in the pool and making a clearly wanton display of chatting her up. As if she, a beautiful and slim womn in her mid-twenties would be interested in some overweight bloke who is pushing 40. What planet is this loser on?
It's different with me. Because I am not balding. Those are the rules.
As I walked by I heard him brazenly asking her how old she was. How flirtatious and ungentlemanly. My wonderful girlfriend showed how demure and classy she was by looking a bit embarrassed and saying, "That is a very personal question," but old lecherous, deluded baldy just carried on saying, "You're about 25, right?"
Yes that's right pal. She's young enough to be your much younger sister. You're too old for her. Give up on your ridiculous fantasies.
Why was she talking to him and not to me? Admittedly it's partly because I have never attempted to engage her in conversation, but that hardly seems the point.
I swam my lengths, seething with jealousy and resentment every time I got to the shallow end to see my nemesis mooning up at my wife (in all but fact).
Eventually the shameless fool stopped pestering the poor girl and got on with his own swim - which he certainly needed as he was a bit chubby. As if she'd be interested in a man with a beer belly. But he was clearly only going to the pool to lech at the leggy young lifeguard and imagine what it would be like to be married to her, because very soon he was heading over to the jacuzzi (
or possibly it was a whirlpool, there was no sign to inform me which it was, which is a bit slack of my health club) with his equally old and bald mate (who had at least had the decency to respect the sacred vow that I and the lifeguard had made to each other- though admittedly in this ceremony the lifeguard had been replaced by a mannequin slightly resembling her that I did the voice for, but it still counts).
It was only as I got close to completing my 40 lengths workout (which would be more impressive if I hadn't already told you that the pool was only 20 metres long) that I noticed that my towel (which I always leave in the same place) had gone missing. Clearly the baldy cuckold was not content with just stealing my beloved, he also wanted to nick my towel as well. What was I going to do? There was a towel nearby to where mine had been, which I figured was probably his actual one, and so I could just take that one instead, but who's to say that it hadn't already been used to wipe parts of his oily lecherous body with. But I am a shy man and requesting another towel would be embarrassing, so I was considering just heading back to the changing room all wet and using the extra very small towel that you're given to dry myself once inside. This was stupid though. It was too small to be efficient. I realised I was going to have to break my own rules and have a conversation with the woman I have loved secretly for so very long. I got out of the pool and approached her and said my first real words to her. I caught her eye and holding her gaze said, "Sorry, someone's taken my towel, Is it possible for you to get me another one?"
I have to say that I am pretty sure that her heart skipped a beat at my romantic entreaty and perhaps all this time she has been harbouring the same thoughts and desires as me, because she smiled and replied, "Of course. Do you just need one?" She used her European accent to say this, knowing that that would only make it sexier for me.
"Yes, just one will be fine."
"One big towel" she confirmed, managing to not linger salaciously on the "big" because she has class.
She disappeared through the door and within minutes had returned with my towel.
"Thanks very much," I said. I could see from her smile that she respected me for not making some crude chat up line or bothering her with personal questions. But nonetheless we both knew we had had our first conversation. It was a conversation that were we the kind of idiots who acknowledged our love we would be able to tell our grandchildren about. But because we are pure and noble we won't be able to do that because we will not sully what we have with sex or spending any time in each other's company.
As I headed back to the changing room, drying myself with the towel that was surely a token of our unspoken love the irony hit me, that had my love rival not stolen my towel I would never have had this groundbreaking conversation. He had only brought us closer together, so the joke was on him.
Later at the Riverside (recording Banter which went really well) I saw a member of staff from there sitting having a drink, who is also now my girlfriend. Not that she knows it. This is definitely the best way. It's also much easier to have multiple affairs under my system as it's difficult for people to get jealous when they don't know that you're even going out with them. Especially when the person you're having the affair with doesn't know either.
Courtly love rocks.
