Maeve was more than a little bit entranced by IT Mike.
A short man, with long red hair and a beard, he projected a certain kind of charm in the general direction of Maeve. Which is not to say he had any kind of charm in him at all. Maeve, I think it is safe to say, was definitely wearing IT Mike tinted glasses.
Which made Maeve wonder why it was called a mating dance?
Some people have 2 left feet. Some people, like Maeve, have more jiggle in their wiggle than anyone wants to see. Not that Maeve cared. Maeve was ABOVE all that. ABOVE being judged based on her appearance.
So if Maeve wanted to wiggle her jiggle, she was sure as hell gonna wiggle the hell out of it.
But I digress. Maeve never really understood the whole concept around the mating dance, never mind they whys and whatnots of why it was so labelled.
To dance is to move. It sway. To sweat. To join in a rhythm. To bend and grind.
Maeve gets it now.
Maeve had long believed that family was overrated.
Sharing DNA with someone does not automatically make them better, reliable, trustworthy, true, honest, loving, kind, generous.
So Maeve had an OPINION….
Said so in capitals because that is how Maeve thought of it, when she thought of it, in her head.
And her OPINION was as follows:
Family is no more and no less than every other person. Sometimes, they are greater than the sum of their parts. But mostly, they are just bastards.
So Maeve came up with a PLAN.
Please see above the explanation on spurious use of CAPITALS.
To be the best person she could be, to those that needed it. Because even if most people are bastards most of the time, it doesn’t mean Maeve has to be a bastard even some of the time.
So far, it is making no difference to her KARMA. But Maeve is hopeful. Because without hope, there is really only chaos.
She spotted him from across the walkway.
Well perhaps spotted is an overstatement. He was heading towards her along a narrow passage. It’s not like she could miss him. Except if she were blind. Which she is not.
So, having seen him quite clearly in the narrow passage way, Maeve got all butterfly-ie in her tummy. IT Mike, with his long hair and beard. IT Mike, with his sweet voice and lovely manner. IT Mike, who still hadn’t installed the calling part of Lync and was studiously avoiding Maeve’s follow up mails.
Not accustomed to having a man crush at 40 years old, but very well versed in the art of taking a perfectly normal situation and turning it into embarrassing weirdness, Maeve braced herself for the moment of ‘passing’….
Did I mention it was a narrow passage way….
It was inevitable.
It was foretold.
It was… Mike flashing a wry smile and ducking into the men’s loo.
Maeve 0. Bog roll 1.