Dave and Mimi
February 26, 2013 § 79 Comments
From yesterday’s Times:-
When I was young, I remember complaining that if I went to a party of, say, 100 people, sixty would be couples, thirty-five single women (including me) and five “available” men. Two of these would be gay or asexual; two commitment-phobes or emotionally incompetent or obsessed with their mothers or thick as pigshit or famously cruel, or some other complex variant which was a nigh-on terminal bar to romantic possibility. The last one, always the most handsome and attractive, would invariably trap me in a corner and look piercingly into my eyes and tell me how madly he love he was… with a woman called Mimi who had the physical attributes of Bardot in her prime, the intellectual ones of Simone de Beauvoir and the heart and soul of a goddess.
I mention this because another younger fellow has hoved into view, handsome and brilliant and talented and I see him a lot and we stay up drinking and smoking (what on earth has come over me!?) and talking all night. Oh, it’s some pathetic chasing on my part of lost youth, and a desire to live a life that at least has some edginess to it, in the absence of any hope of what I really desire once more, or at least think I do, namely long-term married intimacy and companionship.
Anyway, during one of these all-nighters, at about 4am, Dave told me in his cups that – tra la! – he would ravish me in a moment. I thought, gosh, men are like buses: none for several years, then two (young ones) come along at once! There might be something in this infuriating cliche about giving off the “right vibe” after all.
Well, up to a point. SYT has not “materialised” again although we still see each other and despite Dave’s conviction and bet that he will. And Dave, for all his flattering talk, is not about to ravish me, alas, because he is dedicated to his passion for Mimi, the most perfect and beautiful creature that ever graced the earth. She shares the passion but doesn’t entirely know it, and so for the moment it is impossible, but were he not to remain true to her, always and for ever, his whole life would be meaningless and a lie.
When he told me he would ravish me all night – though he used a somewhat earthier term – were it not for Mimi, I took it as a compliment and thanked him politely as if he had given me a pot of home-made jam. I meant it too.
Once a plankton, if you’re anything like me, you clutch at any straw going and are preposterously grateful for the merest crumb.