Sustenance and the Spinster

Food in the fridge is tempting. If goodies are found, goodies will be eaten. Healthy offerings tend to linger taunting me with nutritional high fives. So when shopping I try to steer clear of temptation and don’t allow the transfer from supermarket shelf to trolley. Discussing this tactic with a lithe (physically tempting) male I got a bemused look. ‘What do you mean you don’t buy nice food because you’d eat it?’ Sneaking a glance at his rear as he walked into the lounge with the coffee I’d just made I concluded he would be a stranger to the word restraint in an eating context. That muscle tone is absolutely fat free (thankfully)!

All week I have made time for a client who is keen to discuss a contract where things have not gone to plan. All week he has run out of time and not made the call. It was never going to be an easy conversation but as time has passed the anxiety level has dropped; my comfort consumption of chocolate can no longer be justified! Some was always going to be needed to sweeten the engagement with this particular person as light hearted chatter could be misread (by him not me); the prospect makes me shudder!

The informality of text speak is a tad ridiculous in men of a particular generation eager to ‘get down wiv de kids’ as it were; simply unconvincing when in my head the delivery is pure public school. Please leave out the numbers unless dialling the phone; it’s neither big nor clever not even in Chambers! Can text messages be used as evidence in court I wonder? I’m under no illusion that they can so treat this informal method of communication with caution when doing business.

It is tricky being the age I am – early 40s – and a spinster – for that read unattached or to some people (usually men old enough to be my father) available. We 40 something spinsters are viewed no longer with distain or pity and more often with caution or sympathy (it’s the crutch-vulnerability that does it!) The harmless disabled spinster has hidden depths it seems; apparently I have an infinite patience meaning I am prone to have frighteningly intimate personal confessions plonked in my lap.

 No matter how hard I try I simply can’t look anything other than inviting but it’s a real bonus in business as it translates into professional confidante. Leaning forward conspiratorially even the low hanging cleavage is alluring it seems (as long as they don’t get close enough to see the waist band of my underwear of course)! It’s all a matter of thinking positive and putting a favourable spin on whatever you’ve got to work with. Come on ladies we’ve all got something to exploit!


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Filed under Musings of a Contemporary Spinster

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