The Not So American Americans

Sometimes, every now and then, with some confusion and wonderment you will see a beautiful woman with a bloke who’s definitely punched outside his weight with unnatural success. A stunner going out with a guy who dropped from the ugly tree, strange but it does happen. You see them holding hands in supermarkets, walking down the street, rarely but possibly canoodling in a dark club together. Tonight I see such a couple, here is a small podgy man doing some kind of idiot dancing that he clearly thinks would qualify him for the cast of ‘Riverdance’, but standing beside him and towering above him is an Amazon beauty. Wearing a powder blue slip of a dress, long blonde hair, sparking blue eyes, cheeky smile and a sun tan to top off the whole effect is a girl you would buy a copy of ‘FHM’ to study closer, but she seems to be with this small plump guy, the Gods it seem do have a sense of humour. Joining the unlikely duo is another girl, not unpleasant on the eye, jolly, like the bloke she has dark brunette hair and brown eyes, I wonder if they’re related. How does such a bloke pull such a girl in Crawley? I then have a flash of an inspired explanation, they must be American, it stands to reason, in America this guy would be below average weight and able to skim off some of the top cream like this blonde lass here. I turn to Tim, “I bet they’re all American, hence that couple there getting together, we are after all only five minutes from Gatwick, they probably flew in tonight”, Tim says nothing but the doubtful expression on his face says it all. My drunken mind now needs to prove to itself that my American theory is correct, I approach the brunette. “Excuse me” I say aloud, she turns “what me?” she asks looking around, “er, yes, silly question I know, but I was just thinking that you and your friends must be from America” I tell her, “No” she answers bluntly, “Canada?” I follow up, “Nope” she tells me and I realise my theory has smashed and I’ve lost. “I’m from Pound Hill” (a local area I’ve never visited but always imagined to be hilly and covered in Pound Shops) she pronounces ‘pound’ with a string of ‘a’s at the beginning “Paaaaaaand Hill”. The pronunciation makes me shiver, it sounds like nails on slate or chalk on chalkboard. She notices my reaction, “I can see from my use of the word paaaaaaand and not pound that you don’t think I’m American anymore” she tells me with some directness, I shake my head and together we both laugh. This is my brother, also local and his local girlfriend and I’m ‘Zoe’, we then shake hands. After pointing me out to her boyfriend she tells him that I’d mistaken them all for Americans. “Why is that?” asks Zoe’s brother, “I caught a quick sound bite of your accent and thought you sounded from across the pond” I lie skilfully. He nods and points to the blonde, “she’s my girlfriend” he tells me bluntly, I think of a follow up, a hearty congratulations seems in order, but I just smile and nod my head politely and he goes back to his silly dancing just in time for a ‘Take That’ track. He knows the score and pointing her out is like a dog pissing on a lamppost and marking his territory, she’s a trophy, I also suspect he knows the universe may correct itself any time soon. I’ve been on double Jack Daniels and coke most of the night on top of the obligatory bottles of beer, the effects are being felt. Tim chats a while with Zoe and finds she’s 22 (he guessed 24), lives in a council flat and has a two year old son, with that last bit of information Tim breaks of all further communications, abruptly. She looks at me “I’m off to join my brother and his missus on the dance floor, I’ll catch you later” and then she begins to head off, as she does she turns back “oh, and that American chat up line, very original, I liked it”. I’m not too sure how to respond, I could argue that it was my actual belief or allow her to think that I came up with a rather clever chat up approach and take the compliment, “thanks” I answer weakly.

Having decided to hit the bar and carry on my fall into oblivion I come face to face with something I’ve dreaded even more than seeing the moon-faced woman, I see my last ex’. She looks at me and nothing seems to register, then it does, she swears under her breath allowing me to just about lip read the expletive. She pulls her mate’s arm and disappears into the crowds. There is a relief in my heart, some confrontations are best avoided and this is one, except for one thing, without going into any great detail she owes me a substantial amount of money. OK, here is a little background story, no more than you need to know. She’s 22 and lives in a council flat in East Grinstead, another ‘chav’ town a lot like Crawley but with nicer countryside. Her ex’ was a nasty piece of work, a drug pusher and a waster, 26 living with his parents, no driving licence, no bank account and a temper. A week after I ended it she was back with him, sad really. Fake Louis Vitton hand bag, Big Brother and nothing else on her TV with a trip to ‘Jumpin’ Jacks’ on a Friday night marking the highlight of any given week, we were incompatible so I called it a day. Staying friends was never going to be an option. The drink is much needed and I return to Tim with a pint of larger and my JD and coke, I tell him about the ex’. A couple of girls sidle up to me while Tim visits the gents, a small really cute blonde and an ‘ok’ mate, she’s small and I look down at her, she looks up and gives me a beaming beautiful smile. She quickly moves off, but I make a mental note to find her when Tim comes back. When Tim does eventually get back I head off to answer the call of nature, but before I do I turn to a pretty girl standing near us “excuse me” I shout, she turns “yes?” she asks “I’m off to the bog, do us a favour and keep me mate here company while I’m away, look after him”, I turn to Tim and wink. As I head off I see a mass of seething on Tim’s face over riding the embarrassment, but I have my cloak of drunken invincibility on so I don’t much care. When I get back he tells me not to do that again and I agree. We move off and stand at the back, watching the night unfold. It’s been a bad week and the drink numbs away all the nagging troubles that sit untidily on the edge of my thoughts. Soon my round comes around again, heading to the bar I bump almost physically into my ex’ and her mate. I decide to do the grown up thing “How are you?” I ask her mate “I trust all is well”, a little panic flashes across her face “I’m fine thanks, but I’m not really supposed to talk to you” she tells me. My ex’ is standing behind her looking very annoyed “Come away!” she demands of her friend and pulls her arm, but here is the surprising thing, her mate stands her ground, a little in defiance. The one thing all her mates agreed on was that I was better for her than the 26 year old waster she now lives with again. I liked her mates and mostly I think they liked me. “Sorry” I told her; “oh, and please remind your friend that she still owes me…” splash!!! My ex’ threw the last remnants of her drink over me, at just the precise moment that I was about to reveal something that I don’t think she wanted her mate or mates to know. She gripped her friend harder and dragged her away leaving me to wipe the dripping drink from my face. I smiled, either calculated or emotionally driven a point had been made and the drink in the face was small price to pay, think about it, she paid for that drink and then sacrificed it, I’d have used the free tap water you can get behind the bar.

Experience has taught me that sometimes situations snowball very quickly and the best thing you can do is skip out fast, this was one such situation, plus it was Friday the 13th and I was so drunk I could hardly stand. “You need to look after me mate I can’t stand straight” I tell Tim “probably best we leave” he tells me sagely and I agree. Tim is a hero that night, to this day I have no idea how we got home, teleportation technology for all I know, but get home we did where I was promptly sick, but all the better for it. A good night with so much promise had quickly crashed and burned, but a release valve had opened and maybe a mental hurdle overcome. A week later a not unsubstantial sum of money was paid into my bank account, my statement shows my ex’s name next to the source, which is the happy ending I wanted, except I wonder if Zoe’s brother is still with the stunning blonde?