I have a girlfriend who teaches at Pest n.1's school.

It was carol service night, for the younger children. One of those nights when you are surrounded by smiling couples and squirming siblings with snot decorating their noses, watching the bigger brothers performing in the choir.

The chapel, they said in the letter.

The chapel.

Well, if that's a chapel, I wonder what the cathedral must look like.

It was a solemn, elegant and desperately beautiful enormous building, with coloured glass and ornate ceilings; the organ was breathing fire from the upper stratosphere; the children looked amazingly angelic in their white shirts and house-ties.

I could not see Pest n.1 for ages, and became persuaded that he had just taken the bus home, instead of staying at the school until the service, in which case he was, as I sat there, waiting for me at the bus stop some twenty miles away. I worried and worried until I became consumed with it.

Then I saw him walking down the aisle. Literally. Big front teeth first.

Once I was reassured that nobody would kidnap him tonight, I settled and had a look around me. Four people away from where I was sitting, was my girlfriend, Mrs Networker. She is incredibly sociable and bubbly. Blond and pretty. Between us, two couples.

One of the couples caught my attention, for reasons I may find hard to admit, but to which I shall admit anyway.

It cannot get any worse that it got.

He: tall, ginger hair, glasses, suit. Gorgeous. Yes, I know. I have a soft spot for tall men with ginger hair and glasses. Suit is optional. I don't care.

She: short, fat, double chin. Heavily pregnant too. Rather ugly. Even looked older than him.

I know there are women who will bag the most handsome guy at university, although they are plain and rather dull too. However, they will always make an effort to look at their best, just to keep up with the man. This one, though, hadn't.

After the service, I caught up with my girlfriend. We lamented the lack of companion (she is single too) and available men. I said that I have never really been lucky with men (which is very true).

'Look at that gorgeous fellow there', I commented, pointing at the ginger hair man. 'Standing next to pregnant Mrs Pig. What has she got that I haven't got?'

My girlfriend looked at me. Big, enormous blue eyes boring into mine.

'THAT is S*', she hissed. 'She is my friend. She is NOT pregnant and is LOVELY.'

Ah.

Fatter than I thought. Not even pregnant. And I made the faux pas of the year.

Where is the hole in the ground when you need it? Is it any surprise I don't attract men?

UPDATE, 22 MARCH 2009
I feel the need to edit this post, for the sole benefit of those who will no doubt read it over and over again in the next few days. I have been away from my blog for many weeks now, and I do not like coming back. But needs must. It appears that the lady I refer to in unkind terms in this post has been told about it by a 'friend'. Not the girlfriend I refer to as well in the post, but some other, sour and unfair little madam who must have her own reasons to hate me as she has done for the last two years. This friend was also kind enough to tell her who I am. So Mrs 'Pig' knows my public persona as well as what I thought of her back in December. Now, let me see. If I cared about a friend, I would think twice about pointing her towards a hurtful post. And telling her who wrote it too. I would go to the writer and speak my mind. Defend my friend. Take time to make sure that my friend does not get hurt. I would not just say to my friend, hey sweetie, look what this nasty bitch thinks of you.
What is ironic is... and I know Mrs 'Pig' will not believe me, so I am not going to try hard at convincing her, last night I saw both her and her husband, and it occurred to me that this post must have been written by an alien, because I most certainly did not think of him as highly as I did back in December, when my feelings about my own lost lover were still running high - Mr Lost being tall and ginger too - and also that she did not deserve such ferocious criticism. For that... I am sorry. I can only blame my own bleeding heart, and the fact that I did pour it out in my blog. At the time.
I still think that the lady in question is overweight, and really ought to try and lose some. However, and this hurts but I shall say it regardless... I am also damn sure that she is much more loved, cherished, appreciated and needed than I shall EVER be. So there. The last laugh. No apologies for that.