MISMATCHED
Agatha had never found Paul particularly attractive. Trying to work out why they’d become romantically involved made her brain short-circuit, similar to the way she felt when she thought about where she might find a decent rheumatologist, or the perfect strapless bra.
Even now, decades later, coming across photos of them together was guaranteed to trigger a migraine.
Flummoxed by the wide reach of his appeal, she had come to believe that something about his pheromones blinded women to his slinky vulgarity, infuriating arrogance and appalling taste in clothes. Also, why did he speak in affected, breathy whispers? Was he related to Amanda Lear?
Nevertheless, back in the day, despite his shortcomings, Paul swaggered through life with the certainty that sleeping with him was a privilege. Even in bed his posy self-awareness during sex bordered on the ridiculous, as though he had mastered certain moves and enjoyed his performance, wondering if they might photograph well. Ever broke and stingy, he didn’t believe in Christmas or birthdays, but was nevertheless most generous with STDs.
The relationship had been a short, exhausting, itchy palaver.
Agatha came to her senses with a bang when she caught him red-handed, perfecting the sultry, come-hither facial expressions he used in bars and clubs beneath the unforgiving neon light of his bathroom cabinet mirror.
She’d burst out laughing, then allowed herself the satisfaction of squeezing one last juicy blackhead from his sinewy back, wiped the muck onto the mirror, and walked out.
Yet here he was, balding, and without a sinew in sight, waddling towards her dressed in an untucked, badly fitting suit, forty years later.
“Hello there, Agatha,” he breathed, his voice deeper now, less misty. More like thick, garlic infused fog. “You’ve been on my mind.”
Agatha pretended not to recognise him as she ploughed past. She grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter, knocked it back and flounced out of the party. The last thing she needed was a nostalgic tour of Blooperville with Paul at the helm.
Unfortunately, her car refused to start.