Since when did a child's first birthday party become the place to meet hot guys?
This was the thought that crossed my mind yesterday, as I sat in Beck-lar’s sisters garden, watching ten or more inebriated - yet never the less very pleasing on the eye – grown men launch themselves from the garden decking into the ball-pool section of a child’s bouncy castle, some seven foot away.
I had been genuinely touched to receive an invitation to the first birthday party of Beck-lar’s niece, as these sorts of things can be very much “family affairs”. Truth be told one of the main things I miss about being a "smug married" is the low-key, family orientated parties that you get invited to. I had been looking forward to schmoozing with aunties and uncles, cooing over the birthday girl and her nursery playmates, and enjoying jelly and ice cream in the sunshine. I was looking forward to singing happy birthday, and watching the birthday girl take more pleasure in playing with the wrapping paper her mum had helped her rip off her presents than the actual presents themselves, and hadn’t really even considered the possibility that there might be a requirement for me to “dress to kill”.
Beck-lar’s sister and her chap are a young couple, so I had expected to see their other young “couple friends” with their children, however I hadn’t expected the sudden influx of man-totty (friends and colleagues of the birthday girl’s father) around the 3pm mark, who arrived with pretty pink-wrapped, bowed and ribboned gifts for the birthday girl under one arm, and a crates of beer under the other. Given that I hadn’t really put much thought into my wardrobe choice I was a little thrown by the presence of the men-folk. Why hadn’t I factored this in when choosing my attire for the afternoon? When I was married hadn’t I attended functions just like this? Didn’t my single attractive friends also attend these functions? With hindsight of course I realise they did, it’s just that at the time their marital status was of no consequence to me, and I wasn’t in a position to want to judge their eligibility as “eye candy”.
Never the less I sat there, somewhat bemused as to where these boys had come from, and why no’one had warned me. Had I been aware I would certainly have prepared accordingly for the occasion - and by that I mean I would have spent more time on my make-up that morning and would have limited my alcohol consumption at the party. As it was, by the time they arrived I had consumed at least three glasses of Rosé, and was already spouting a fair amount of gibberish. Beck-lar was still feeling the after effects of a night out on the Malibu the previous evening and was in no state to flirt. No words needed to be passed between us...we both knew this wasn’t the day for us to be turning on the charm for the gentlemen in question. Luckily for us there was an abundance of girl totty to keep the boys entertained without us, in the form of the birthday girl's mum's friends. I don't mind admitting that I was somewhat relieved about this!
I'm sure by now you've spotted that there is of course a moral to this story ladies and gents...and that is - to expect the unexpected. Be prepared, because you just never know what opportunities life might throw at you, but the one thing you can always count on, is that they’ll come hurtling towards you in the most unlikely places.
So, with me hiding behind my enormous Gucci shades, and Beck-lar behind her adorable niece, we watched the totty from the other side of the garden. Marvelling at their check-shirted, long-shorted, flip-flopped, Ray-Ban Aviator'd hot summery goodness, and thanked the Lord that he’d at least give us something pretty to look at for the afternoon.
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