BLIND DATES:

Blind dates, blind me, blind men,

If I´ve dated one, I´ve dated ten,

And not because I´ve wanted to,

But because my mother said, “Sue”,

Then she followed with a list of why,

I ought to date and wed and so my

Dating game began:

Chinless wonders and dauntless dandies,

Stupid dolts, idiots and namby pambies,

Mean miserly scrooges and inflated egos,

Foreign dark men with fit sultry amigos,

Young ones, old ones and one with a limp,

The hairy, the bald, the skinny, the fat oily blimp,

The mummy´s boys, cry babies, wimps & bullies,

And those turning up in granny´s knitted woolies,

I was wended, wafted and wooed through meals,

Squeezed into tight sexy dresses and painful killer heels,

And not a single one ticked all mother´s hopeful boxes,

They all came in sheepskins, the wolves and sly foxes,

Just as I gave up, desperate of all positive hope,

Not even prayers in church, nor audience with the Pope,

Then one day at work, from my desk, looking up I spied,

In walked “the one”, waddling in from side to side,

With pillowed tummy under his too short coat,

And a straggly red beard like that of an old billy- goat,

Peering at me through the glasses on the end of his nose,

And clutched in sweaty stubby fingers, he carried a red rose,

I´d found my diamond amidst the smooth & the rough,

After scratching through all the banal and superficial stuff,

And my mother sighed at last, but with resigned relief,

That although he wasn´t a Lord, at least he wasn’t a thief.