Ok perhaps that’s overstating it.
I met Mr Motorbike yesterday. It was a spur of the moment thing. I was in the area. I thought, why not. One coffee never hurt anyone.
We meet. He’s ok. He’s into motorbikes. He says, ‘Want to go for a spin?”
I think, it’s been 20 years since I’ve sat on the back of a motorbike. And that was when my best friend was a bad girl with pink hair and an unbelievably huge bottom, who derived major street-cred from arriving at rough bars astride a large black two wheeled thing that went vroom. I can’t be more specific – I’m not into motorbikes. Except to say that my own two wheeled thing, which had wonky handlebars and went ‘squeak’, was kind of laughable in comparison.
So I’m in a YES kind of mood. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? I could be splattered all over the road like a can of tomato ravioli only sexier. Or I could spend the next six months in hospital. Or in a home-made dungeon….
So the next day he picked me up and we got on the vroom vroom and I suddenly remembered that I don’t like things that go fast, and the feeling of 100km/hr (actually 60 but it felt like it) wind in my face, and watching the road leer menacingly at my knees as we lean round a curve…I don’t like it much at all!
Anyway finally we reach our destination, a kinda pleasant picnic spot next to a river (with some families doing security patrol).
Me. So we’ll sit down here, shall we? What a nice morning!
Me: So…what do you do when you’re not on your motorbike?
Him: (looks blank) I, um, garden, that kind of thing. And work, of course. Though not really. They pay me a lot but I don’t actually do any work.
Me: Great. But in the evenings? I mean, after you’ve finished gardening..do you read?
Me: Watch tv, movies?
Him: Not much.
Me: What then?
Him: (after a pause) Don’t know really.
We contemplate the scenery. I think about how quickly it would be polite to ask to get back on the bike and go home.
Suddenly there’s movement at the station. A quick glance downwards. A nervous leg movement. And then it comes.
“Would you like contact?”
He’s already leaning in for the kill, lips pursed, arms invitingly curved.
“Oh, ok then.”
Well, that’s that then. Fun time had by all. But at least I got to have that bikies moll fantasy over again!
What’s the unsexiest come-on you’ve ever had?