I've been legally responsible for quite some time now; I can do the hanky panky, buy a lottery ticket and that other desirable act - marriage in a small village in Scotland. Thankfully it's just over the border so the marriage could a kind of in-out job..much like marriage night with a 16 year old?
My marriage vision usually consists of a barefoot wedding on an island I can't quite pronounce, where I'm filled with 'the love of eternity' and have a six month long honeymoon; all this funded by my parents, who luckily still agree to pay half my rent till I've 'got this fashion thing started'. The years to come will see us buy almost matching, minimalist plates (if you don't know the sort you can view my parents' collection)and a North-East London (edgy!) house in which I will spend my days in a hazily-defined career writing articles for Sunday times style magazine about my lack of sex life unless my husband and I are on coke or with the neighbours. I'll be perusing Cath Kidston one day, looking for some new sugar jars (but this time with labels on!) when I'll overhear a woman about my age talking about 'The Ashley Madison Agency'. From what I can innocently gather, the agency provides picture-profiles of married people looking for, you guessed it, married people to have squelchy affairs with. It's kind of like in-breeding because of the fact 80% of them live in North London.
"A dating agency?" I think - "shouldn't I? Oh sure, my ass has seen tauter days, but people don't say 'aw hell no' to money...and I could try that bendy thing people do that I accidentally saw on my nephews laptop on Thursday.."
My hand slips at the thought and knocks an entire row of pink and white striped garden baskets. The ladies turn around. My breath gathers to a heartbeat in my chest and I am just with it enough to blab out my desire for knowledge.. and I leave with the details of the agency. If my hubby should see the URL on our search history, it'll simply look like a website for middle class womenswear. Think 'Laura Ashley', not 'I'm sucking off the neighbours son now, only I haven't made the link because it's all done my internet.' When they do, I can blame it on either investigative journalism or a mildly psychopathic mental disorder I've been harbouring, unnoticed, all this time. Or I was just 'getting tips'. Either way, it'll make unique "housewife rediscovers herself" literature given a year or two and a pseudonym stolen from a brand of candy.
to be continued...........
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment