Rules of attraction

THERE’S nothing quite like a good wedding to restore your faith in romance and make you realise that true love does exist.
There are too many people nowadays who are loose-tongued with ‘I love yous’ and ‘together forevers’ which are forgotten all too soon.
Personally, I know someone who one minute could be telling their partner they loved them ‘from heaven to earth’ and the next would be sending them into orbit.
I know someone else who can be sitting yards from their partner, asking a relative stranger for their phone number.
But no, there is hope for us all — I have seen it with my own eyes. There is no doubt that the two people who exchanged their vows in front of me are in love beyond belief. The sceptical blinkers have been removed for the time being.
And a wedding is such a great concept for a guest. It’s a chance to spend a ridiculous amount of money on an outfit you’ll probably never wear again and be able to justify it; a sing along (both in the church and on the bus home); a great meal with friends; and a night out all in one.
I finally found the shoes in a sale to complete my wedding outfit. Yes, in my vast collection, the one thing I didn’t own was a pair of black sandals.
I am now also the proud owner of a lovely black hat courtesy of the same sale, so if any single, young, available man needs a partner for any forthcoming engagement, I am prepared and available.
Thank goodness for my friends. If I didn’t have them I would have felt a right plonker, sitting on the sidelines watching the lovely couples dancing. The last dance was infinitely the low point of the evening, so I busied myself wrapping a piece of wedding cake in a napkin ready to go under my pillow, because all self-respecting singletons know if you do this you dream of the person you’re going to marry.
I dreamt about my favourite ex. I think it was either coincidence or wishful thinking.
The morning after the night before, I got my usual hangover advice from him — “Don’t eat an egg if it’s still runny on the top.”
This morning he also added: “And don’t speak to Dave if you see him.”
Dave is the name he has given to Mr Can’t Attach, Won’t Attach — who I recently dropped from my list of ‘things to do’ — the reason being that there was a 99.9% chance I was going to see him that day.
I had hoped I could get through the day without seeing him, but someone somewhere, who didn’t think a hangover was bad enough to cope with, positioned him next to me wherever I went. To make matters worse, he was wearing a bright red top, so he wasn’t exactly hard to spot in a crowd.
The magic of the waltzers is, no matter what mood you are go on them in, you are soon laughing uncontrollably. I recommend them to anyone who needs a boost without the use of mood-altering substances,
Another way I have found to do this is, and it’s a unique way just for me, is to phone my favourite ex, who has a beautiful knack of having me rolling round the floor. Easy now, I mean purely in the biblical sense, and with laughter.
Last night we were discussing the reunion that has been promised for four years, but it looks like it may actually happen this time.
This may pose a few problems though. It’s just going to be me, him, his old flatmate and his old flatmate’s girlfriend, and his other old flatmate who held a mutual attraction for me. Nice.
It should be good though — as I say I haven’t seen them for about four years so it’ll be good to get reacquainted.
Talking about getting acquainted — I wish when you liked someone, or when someone liked you, you could just tell them. OK I’ll rephrase that, I wish I had the courage to tell someone I liked them.
The problem is I’m faced with is I’m not very good at reading signals. But this has been made worse by someone who is very signal-happy, flirtatious with a capital F you may say.
Now, being a major flirt myself this has the effect of two magnets — like two positives being forced together and missing completely. I hope we don’t.