Politics... My way!

It must have been four years after my separation that I was invited to a Conservative cocktail party in the garden of a house by Regents Park. The invitation was from Ingrid, a half-English, half-Swedish girl I had met one-night dancing at Momo's club. Roughly a year after we'd first met (and a few nights out) she became active in politics and kindly invited me to a few events together with her girlfriends - all tall, blonde and fun.

Feeling fabulous and a little high on that spring afternoon (high on life) I entered the garden from the drawing room, dressed in a pink and black lacey, beaded skirt, a tiny black top which revealed a tanned cleavage; a black suede, open coat; and black, high heels of course! Around thirty people were standing in groups talking, with their wine glasses in hand.

As it was, most of the women were dressed in their casual yet conservative country style. But I didn't let that worry me. Ingrid appeared with a smile to greet me and started introducing me to people whose names I promptly forgot (I have a terrible memory for names... and I mean truly bad). Across the garden, I noticed a rather good-looking man of about forty, in his suit and cravat like everyone else. He was talking to another man.  Having shaken enough hands, I nudged Ingrid to introduce me to them.

"Mark," she got his attention. "This is Haldita."
"And this is James," she introduced, leaving us to attend to other guests.
Now, Mark, who I had noticed earlier, as we exchanged looks across the many heads, started with the 'let's get the first initial questions out of the way' etiquette and as we were getting better acquainted, James turned to Mark and interrupted by continuing their initial conversation on football!
I listened for a couple of minutes before making my way to talk to an older gentleman, who had visited my country. I expressed my disappointment at people's habit of judging nations by their leaders and wrong-doings. Of course, the media does not help with broadcasts that portray constant wars and acts of injustice. Why is it that good news doesn't sell?

Politics makes me sad so I diverted my attention to notice that Mark was looking my way and he seemed to have had enough football talk. I started to make my way towards the door, saying my goodbyes, and noticing him do the same. Without saying a word, it seemed we had similar intentions of leaving at the same time.

As I made my way out through the long corridor, he joined me.
"So what was the score?" I said with a laugh.
"Yes, I've had my share of football for one night." He smiled.
"Where do you live?" I went on as we were leaving the house.
"In Belgravia," he seemed surprised at my question.
"Are you driving?" there was a purpose to that question, obviously.
"No, I came by cab," Mark answered, puzzled. 
"I live nearby and feel like driving." I continued. "Would you like a lift?"
"Oh, I wouldn't want to bother you." Of course, he did not mean that.
"No bother. I'm parked across the road. Get in." 
 My friends don't call me a cabbie for nothing!

As we sat in my car, I had to turn down my blaring music and lit up a joint. He looked at me in total surprise!
"And what is that?" he exclaimed.
"Well, it's not a roll-up for sure." I laughed again.
I dropped Mark at his door. We exchanged telephone numbers and went our separate ways.

Two weeks or so passed when one afternoon I was going through the numbers on my mobile that I came across... Mark. Mmmm, a text.
"So Mark. Did you take my number to add to your collection? Or... ?" I texted.
He answered back and asked to meet for a drink at a gastro pub in Chelsea. It was all quite amusing how we met and he kept insisting on opening a school where I would teach women the art of flirting!
"Moi... A teacher of... What exactly? Besides, if this is flirting I do, then I flirt with children, with animals. Surely, this is simply being friendly!" Was my answer, totally flirting with him through the eyes."
"Besides," I went on... "This is part of our culture."
We had a pleasant time and a few laughs but my mother had told me many years ago that good-looking guys with a little attitude are usually not very good at sex!
So we left it at that.

The best time I had was going to the next event, a ball, with the taxi driver taking me there.
As usual, I was running late. The card read drinks at 7.30pm and dinner promptly at 8pm. I jumped in the shower at 7.30 and left my flat at 7.50 pm with wet curly hair and another not-so-conservative outfit!
I hailed a cab and begged him for the fastest route as I was very late.

"So what time do you have to be there?"  Asked Dan the cabby.
I always make sure I ask people's names when I meet them and that is almost everybody, only to forget it two seconds later! But I try.
"Dinner starts at 8 promptly," I answered. "You could say I'm a little late!" I giggled at the back.
"You don't look like someone going to a political dinner party." He said with a laugh.
"Frankly, I haven't got a clue why I'm going." I thought aloud. "Got invited and thought why not! It's good to have different experiences in life... I guess."
"You seem like a fun lady," Dan carried on. "Forget about the dinner, I can take you to some really fun, cool places instead. What do you say?"
I was laughing only because I found his offer quite tempting. Not that I would have taken it up but I am sure he was right. He went on to confess to being married with two kids! Cute but definitely No.
He still managed to write his mobile no on a piece of paper and handed it to me in case I got bored at the dinner.

I rushed into the dining hall and was ever so pleased to find out that they were just about to sit down.
More introductions and to my surprise, David Cameron came to talk at a stand near where I was sitting. The best part of his speech, I thought, was when he told his wife one night in bed, whether she realised she was married to a man charting the top 100 sexiest men?
Do you know what is terrible?? I can't remember what her answer was! But it sounded cool!

And this is as close as I have got to politics!