The First Husband and I watched An Education on DVD last night. I had to act as interpreter on occasion, as the accents were a bit much for him, but I think it is fair to say that he quite enjoyed it. As for me, I was in seventh heaven, and not just because it’s a fantastic film. I was, of course, reliving the past again, especially the bit where I had an illicit fling with a much older guy when I was only 15.
Like the Peter Sarsgaard character in the movie, he flirted with the wrong side of the law, which may have been why I found him so fascinating. What he saw in me, I have no idea. From today’s perspective, I think he might have been a bit of a pervert – why else would a man in his 20s be interested in a callow schoolgirl – but our relationship never progressed beyond some steamy snogging in his VW Beetle. (What? I did say he flirted with the wrong side of the law, didn’t I? I doubt if he ever made it as far as a sports car, since he was really only a wannabe thug.)
But he introduced me to Black Sobranie cigarettes, which I thought the height of decadent sophistication, and took me to bars and cafes. I wore mini-dresses I’d made for myself (I was quite the seamstress back then!) and kept at my best friend’s house, where I’d change before meeting my Bad Boy. She, of course, was my co-conspirator and just thrilled by it all, quite happy to be the decoy if she could live vicariously through my experience.
It all petered out after a few weeks – believe it or not, because I got bored. Even at that age, it didn’t take me too long to realize that there had to be more to life than sitting around listening to Bad Boy and his mates bragging about fights they’d started and/or finished, or their girlfriends yakking about makeup and nail polish. None of them had ever read anything beyond Mechanic’s Weekly or Photoplay and they didn’t seem to be interested in anything outside their own small circle. It was like dating The Fonz, except Bad Boy wasn’t remotely funny. Just as well, really; I’ve always been a sucker for funny guys.
I’ve always been a sucker for funny women. Luckily for me — if unluckily for my own education and/or stock of creative ammunition — I’ve also always been terrified of them. I’m like everybody’s secret admirer.
The “bad boy” attraction is one of The Missus’s favorite topics. The one she usually cites from her own past was a slender cigarette-smoking rebel in jeans and T-shirts, who showed up at her door for their one date in something like khakis and a white Oxford shirt. She heard that he died in a car accident or something, years later, which of course just added to the mystique of his memory.
Ever hear what became of your own Bad Boy?
So can you tell me, John, why men are afraid of funny women? I absolutely agree with what Duchess says below: wit is an aphrodisiac. For me, making me laugh was always first base; without it, game over.
Alas, I’ve no idea what happened to my Bad Boy. If he continued smoking the way he used to, he’s probably long dead of lung cancer.
Funny is the best aphrodisiac in my world, though I admit I am also impressed by anything that looks like competence.
Yep funny and competent is the magic, but all too rare, combination. And I lucked out and married one of ‘em …
Hmm. You mean I’m not the ONLY one afraid of them?
After watching this short clip, I can’t wait to see the entire feature. I only wish I’d had the guts to be that kind of person back when I was young. I was too afraid of everything. Failure, strangers, anything out of my comfort zone made my heart pound but not in a good way.
Kudos to you for being “that” kind of woman and sharing your experiences.
Now I have to watch this movie. Can you come down and translate the accents for me. We can go to the Square Grouper afterward.
Maybe Duffys. Or we can try something new. Nahhhh.