More on My Perfect Day

Something else happened on my Perfect Day that made it even better. I finally managed to have a proper catch up with my friend Judy.

Although we both make a big effort, it is quite hard for us to get together. Between our jobs, her three kids, the Little Dude, the Big Dude and everything else we need to do, our tiny number of spare hours hardly ever seem to coincide. We have a lot of quick emails and snatched conversations in corridors at work, heavily coded so that our colleagues don't understand what we are talking about.

But as part of my Perfect Day, we had a long and lazy afternoon sitting in the sun in her backyard. And we had a great conversation. She is going well. For the first time since her husband's death six years ago, she is thinking about having a man in her life. She is realizing that she has probably only ten years or so left, maybe five, to do the things that she would like to do for herself before she may need to help care for her daughter, who has been diagnosed with Huntington's Disease. Oh, I hope, hope, hope that a really lovely man turns up for Judy. Surely no one deserves a good man more than she does.

Now, I am not a fan of most stereotypes about men and women. But one thing I do find: Men, on the whole, don’t often have these gentle, rambling conversations about their lives, their thoughts, their feelings, with other men. They seem to save those conversations, if they have them at all, for their women friends. With their male friends, they seem to like to do something together.

For me, part of what I like about these kinds of conversations are that they are such a womanly thing. Between women, they are a warm, sustaining ritual, like eating a really satisfyingly delicious hot soup on a cold evening.

And on my Perfect Day, Judy said something to me that was so unexpected, so delightful, that I want to remember it always. She was talking about how shy she is, and how she finds it difficult to let a man know she is interested. How she just hopes that a man will notice her and realize that he needs to pursue her. And she suddenly said this wonderful thing:

When you and I go out together, you don't seem to have that problem. When you walk in, you just light up the room. You are so pretty, so warm, that you are just like a magnet. The men come to you!

It was one of those moments when you realize how radical the difference can be between the way you see yourself and the way another person sees you. For a moment, I was so shocked by what she said that I forgot to breathe.

Did I exactly believe her? Not really, no. Although I have never really lacked for male attention when I have wanted it, except for attention from the Big Dude.

But Judy is the least flattering, least insincere person you could ever meet. Also, she didn't sound like she was trying to be reassuring. She sounded a bit jealous, to tell you the truth.

So I believed that she believed it. And just knowing that she did, I felt a rush of pleasure, of complete and utter happiness, about the possibility that it might be even slightly true. Just true enough for at least one person in the world to believe it, even if that person was not me.

And I am still quietly hugging this thought to myself. Perhaps I am not a sad and sexless little drudge, labouring away unappreciated. Maybe I am actually an attractive, charismatic man-magnet!

*Happiness*

You can see why it was such a Perfect Day.