Waiters in the decent restaurants would be close to resigning as they went back and forth to the kitchen to ask the chef the details of dishes so lovingly created.Then she’d order a concoction of different items from the offering, sometimes asking for things to be remade using oil instead of butter, or soya milk instead of regular.When she insisted that a lasagne be specially made for her without the cheese and tempura without the batter (?) I had an inner argument; the Monkey was saying- "don’t bin her you prick, she’s a goddess, forget the gastro-bullshit".She was quite happy for me to be a Jolly Cunnilingerer and would often suggest a mid-afternoon or evening refresher of Lady Clam, and in the morning she would serve me up a breakfast in the form of her Vertical Bacon Sandwich.So I knew her tears were not due to the misery of my performance.
This conundrum between animal instinct and human conditioning is highlighted when we find ourselves in relationships with an absolute head-banger who we then stay with solely due to finding them incredibly sexy.
As Trish drank her beverage I had 999 keyed into my phone, my thumb hovered over the green button, just in case she started going a bit ‘Elephant Man’ on me. Despite her holding half-cup bras to her fine chesticles and the monkey inside providing me with a bit of a semi-on, I remained steadfast, I was totally unwilling to spend any money on anything other than more surreptitious dairy.