Compromise

Across a crowded room my eyes met his hair.
He's a cartoon character ' big red Afro.

I used to have a shopping list:
1. Dark hair
2. Doesn't talk too much ' particularly not complimenting me (it makes me sick)
3. Casual clothes
4. Taller than me
5. No slip-on shoes, particularly not the ones with buckles on
6. Affectionate when I want him to be (not in front of my parents)
7. Interested in cooler music and films than me so that I think he's clever
8. Can play at least one instrument well without looking like a tit
9. Not too smooth looking, or I might think he's a child and try to mother him
10. Be well built ' no legs that make slim-fit jeans look baggy
11. No slim-fit jeans!

He's tall ' much taller than me, but very thin (must be all that speed he takes). I tried to feel his arse and found a spinal column. He has ginger skin. He wears contacts in daylight, but at night the glasses come out ' like two of grandma's glass coasters stuck in front of his eyes.

Today he phoned me like he said he would, and I laughed at his hangover. He whispered, "I miss u baby!
He's going to be a professor and earn £50 000. I always wanted my own swimming pool. When I looked at his hair at the party where I met him ' in a crammed Camden flat ' and felt unsure, he held my hand. He stroked my arm so that my hairs stood on end, and hugged me with his cheek pressed against mine. I could have sat like that all night¦if I hadn't passed out from the eight vodka cocktails.

I think I might revise my shopping list:
1. Must make me happy.