Diary of a Menopausal Man

Well, I've had a few hours sleep, and at least 12 showers, but I don't think I've quite recovered from the nightmare of incarceration. (Must remember to be suitably grovelling and grateful to H, J and L for getting me out when I see them for dinner on my big day. And I sure hope they take credit cards). The only bright spot I can recall in the last 24 hours was the lovely Officer Paris Hilton - stict but fair (haired). It was a pleasure to be in her control, and I have to say it was a particular delight to have her take down my particulars.

But what on earth do I do next? The Company is sure to know about the blo*** Prius - I'm pretty sure that they called SB the EVP before reverting to my pals for help. So, am I facing a future with no Chelsea, no Aston, no job, and no car?????

Sorry, just had to break off to take a call on my mobile. Apparently, J has used her HR links to persuade the Company Medic that I'm having a breakdown, so they are offering to forgive everthing and put me in a private hospital for emergency treatment. I don't have a lot of choice, so I've agreed to exaggerate the symptoms and head off to the funny farm tonight.

Will check in as soon as I can - I wonder what tomorrow will hold???

Have to write this at the start of B-day minus 4 because I didn´t get released from the police station until just now. Thank got my friends J, H & l brought the money together to bail me out and pay the fine. It was over 20.000 pounds. I´ll pay them back as soon as I can I think.

My day in the cell with the air steward (I don´t even want to write or hear his name for the rest of my life) was a living hell. He tried to get closer to me while I was constantly moving away from him, but in a small police cell that isn´t quite as far away as I wanted. Ended up not sleeping for over 24 hours trying to upheld my virginity in this special case (never thought I had to fight one day to keep my virginity).

Strangely enough all unpure thoughts disappeared for the whole time, which at least has cleared my mind how I want to go on once I hit the big B-day, but that´s a story for another day.

Just a quick review of the service at the cell:
- food 1 points, I wish they would go back to water and bread
- service 1 point, haven´t seen a smile all day
- bed 0 points, didn´t want to lie on one of them because of you know who
- airconditioning 10 points, but only if you like freezing cold

Only highlight of the day: the police woman who gave me back my personal belongings with a smile, still haven´t found out her name, must do soon.

Woke up this morning feeling absolutely down - having been so close to create something beautiful with Aston, throwing it all away for a moment of total lost of control. Can't think whatever I saw in Chelsea, she must be a witch or a footballer's wive. Milano did comfort a bit, but will I end up in the same misery, besides who names their daughter after a football club ?

At least I thought I would do one positive thing today and take revenge on the horrible Toyota Prius and decided to drown it in the river Thames. Found a nice spot on the South Bank where I could drive it into the water and you will not believe this. This bl...y car is not only hybrid, it also floats ! Just my luck to have the amphibeous option installed on the car. Maybe I should have paid more attention to that person that was flashing to me from a 100 yards, but couldn't be bothered.

On top of that I got arrested by the police because they claim I tried to pollute the river Thames by driving my car into it, put I thought the Congestion Charge allows me to do anything in London.

Whe I thought it couldn't get worse, guess what happened in the police van that was taking me to the Police station. Roger the Steward was sitting next to me, acting like a litle baby. He got arrested for indecent behaviour when showing off his private parts on the South Bank. His story was that he was trying to get my attention since he spotted. I now have to spend a night in the cell with him - God help me, how much more do I need to be punished. I just need to remember not to bend over.

Police is now taking my mobile devices, will tell the story further tomorrow.

No. of impure thoughts - 865
No. of changes of clothing before going out - 7
No. of hours spent in a beauty salon - 4
No. of snogs - 1

Big Brother must be monitoring my diary - option 4 (the suici** one) was deleted from last night's entry. (I didn't really intend to do it, but yesterday was a v. bad day)

Today was my big day - dinner with Aston. J gave me the name of a top end beauty salon in London and I arrived there this morning and threw myself on their mercy. I asked them to make me look great - after much tutting, the manager said that with intensive effort they could aim for 'barely acceptable'. Basically, I don't know how woman stand it. I had 4 hours of sheer unmitigated torture. The 'non surgical facelift' to try to right my drooping Botox problems was first, followed by blackhead removal, followed by waxing. (I believe its called a 'back, sack and crack' wax in Australia). It brings tears to my eyes to remember it. They said they had never heard anyone scream that loud, but I was past caring by that time. At the end of it, I limped out 400 pounds poorer, but with skin as soft as a baby's bottom. But if I get a chance to show it off tonight, it will be worth every penny.

I arranged to meet Aston at the Oxo Tower, and got there early so I could be sitting at our dimly lit table trying to look my best. She looked spectacular - her long brunette locks swung over her shoulders, and she wore a fanastic short black dress. Dinner went really well, and the conversation was flowing nicely, when Aston suggested we moved out on to the terrace for drinks. As we stood there, overlooking the Thames, with the sun setting in the background, I looked into her eyes and prepared to kiss her. However, I suddenly became aware of riotous laughter behind me. I looked round, and couldn't believe my eyes. Could that really be Chelsea, queen of my heart, partying on the terrace with a group of friends??

I tried to keep calm, but I couldn't control myself. I broke away from Aston and ran across to Chelsea, calling her mame again and again. She looked up and said only 3 words - 'Who are you??' I was gutted. I've spent all these months worshipping her in my dreams and she didn't even remember me. Aston slapped my face and said that she had never been more insulted in her life.

So here I am - alone again, naturally.

As I stood there, shell-shocked, a pretty waitress approached and said that she had seen everything and wanted to make sure I was OK. She insisted on getting me a drink, and looking after me. In fact, she even insisted on walking me to my car, and kissing me goodnight. Oh Milano, my dusky Italian beauty - could you be the new love of my life????

No. of fights with the car unit - 4
No. of hours spent grooming in anticipation of tomorrow - 5
No of hours spent sellotaping my face - 3

People have been telling me that I look very calm today. Well, I'm not actually feeling very calm, but I look exceptionally calm because my face is totally frozen. It's unbelievable, but I have lost all facial expression. When I was angry, and shouting at the company car unit about the Prius, I looked like this. When I was happy and daydreaming about Aston, I looked exactly the same. But worst of all, my right eye started drooping when I got off the plane back from my morning meeting in Amsterdam. I phoned J for advice, and she said that everybody (i.e. she and her friends) all know that you can't fly immediately after Botox.
Dr Milano didn't mention anything to me about side efects - it seems that for 25 pounds, the serice doesn't include lifestyle advice. But the problem is that I now look like a cross between a serene version of Quasimodo, and a leering gargoyle. What on earth can I do to make it all right before my date with Aston tomorrow? I spent 3 hours trying to sellotape my face back into place, but that didn't work. Then, in desperation, I phoned the Oxo Tower and asked for a really dark, romantic, candlelit table in the corner. I have only 4 options:
1. I can hope that it will be so dim tomorrow night that she won't actually be able to see me.
2. I can change plan and ask her to come with me to that new restaurant in London which is totally in the dark, and where all the waiters are blind
3. I can tell her that I'm a war veteran with combat injuries to my face, and hope for the sympathy vote.

Hours of sleep during work - 10

Went for my Botox injections today, was greeted by one of the most beautiful girls ever, Milano. She must have walked straight out of the advertisement for Botox injections, but then at all the right places. Think that if my date with Aston doesn´t work out, I have my next love in sight.

The injections hurt like hell, especially the ones under my eyes. The Doctor said it wasn´t a great idea, but you know me, I will insist. Can´t see much now, but presume that after a night sleep it will be better. I hope so, otherwise won´t even recognise Aston on Thursday.

Drove myself home after the Doctors visit, in the vague hope to drive the "bl..." Prius into the scrap heap. My luck that I was guided through traffic by some male cop, who obviously thought I needed some male support. Would have shown him my middle finger, if I could have seen him more clearly. Must remind myself to tell J that it was a nice clinic, but was she sure that 25 pounds for some Botox injections wasn´t a bit cheap ?

The company does move quickly, already got my new Toyota Prius today - what an ugly car. They claim the Holywood stars drive in it, must be some weirdo from the Scientology who does that. They say the car is so environment friendly, but forgot to tell me it still needs fuel, so ended up stranded on the roadside near Swindon of all places. Boy - I do hate that car.

Finally picked up all my courage and phoned Aston for a dinner date at the OXO Towers on Thursday, which always brings me back many happy memories about Chelsea. Maybe with Aston I can add a few to those.

That Nivea Q10 stuff is really not working yet for me, so have made an appointment for a Botox injection tomorrow, mainly for my forehead (which is getting larger each year) and around my eyes for the bags. Got the address from my good friend J, who definitively doesn't need it herself, but always knows all the addresses to go to. Hope I will look great on Thursday for Aston.

No. of hours sleep before work - 3
Hangover rating on a 1-10 scale - 10
Humilation factor as my memory returns - off the scale

It's morning and I'm still alive. Today that's not necessarily a good thing. I have a world class hangover, and I'm gradually starting to remember much, much, much more that I want to about last night. Did I really do the Gary Glitter dance when I was singing? And what about this nagging feeling - surely I couldn't have done 'Wild Boys' as a duet with Country Jack? If anyone who knows me was in the audience, I may have to kill myself. Or move to Swindon or Milton Keynes. (Yes, I know, it's pretty much the same thing).

Things started to pick up around lunchtime when my PA, Tottie, told me that she'd heard that the company is renewing all our company cars early as part of a high level drive with a new global automotive partner. I spent the afternoon comparing notes with the guys. H had heard rumours about a new strategic account with Porsche, which sounded pretty darn promising. He wants a silver 911, but - to my mind - you can't beat red. L is so rich he has his own Bentley, so he wasn't bothered. But the sky started to fall in around 4 when a corporate announcement came out about our new company programme,'Saving the World'. Apparently, our contribution to 'Saving the World' is that all company cars will be recalled and replaced by a green alternative - the Toyota Prius. In green, with a company logo on the door.

This is war - I won't take this lying down.

It's just after midnight, so hope this still counts as yesterday? What a night.

No of impure thoughts - 23 (still mostly about Chelsea; I guess she's the queen of my heart, no matter how gorgeous Aston and Roma are). And a few hundred extra bonus thoughts about Crystal (see below)
No. of cigarettes inhaled as people walk by - Hundreds (why did I bother giving up?)
No. of indelible public humiliations - 1
No. of death wishes about my main client - 1

The reason why I'm so late putting in this entry is that I had to take my main client (Jack the country bumpkin) to dinner tonight. Dinner itself was OK - I can always rely on The Ivy to give him the opportunity to ogle a few stars on his one night a year up in the 'big city'. It's the bit afterwards I dread most. Last year wasn't so bad, as he wanted to go to Stringfellows. I still have 'warm memories' of Crystal, who certainly knew how to make a big impresssion!! She was worth every penny (even if the ethics code meant that I couldn't charge her to expenses). But guess what his special request for after-dinner entertainment was this year? - karaoke. After I got over my initial horror, I suggested Lucky Voice, an upmarket karaoke bar that my friends J and H have visited. The rooms are very private, with a bar service, so at least you can drink to numb your embarrassment and know that no-one outside the room can hear you. But no, country Jack wanted to go to the noisiest, nastiest, most public karaoke pub in the whole of Soho. The memory of me having to sing his special request 'I'm the Leader of the Pack' in front of that crowded bar will haunt me forever..... I wonder if I can charge a hit man to expenses, or if that would also be against the code of conduct?

Well, they say that 13 is unlucky, and it sure wasn't lucky for me. It started so well when I got upgraded to First on BA, and got even better when I saw the stewardess, the heavenly Roma. I don't normally go for brunettes, but she ticked all of my boxes. At last, here was my chance to fulfil one of my main 'before I'm 50' ambitions. I don't join too many clubs these days, but the Mile High Club is one membership that I wouldn't turn down! I preened myself a bit(top tip - hairspray is great for your moustache), smoothed down my fabulous new leather trousers, and got ready to move in for the kill. But I had barely got back to my seat when I saw it - a little note waiting for me on my seat, saying 'Meet me at the back of the cabin at midnight, R'. I had at least 50 impure thoughts before midnight, and could barely contain myself as I drew back the curtain. But who was this guy standing there with a big smile on his face???? How the hell did I know that 'moustache + leather trousers' would give out a very, very wrong signal to Roger, the first class Steward?
Oh well, I guess tomorrow is another day...........

Another 14 days - think it is time to find a place to bury myself that day unless I can find a suitable date to spend the evening with. Where did I leave Aston's phonenumber again - Alzheimer is already hitting me.

Too many impure thoughts today to mention here, reached a peak when the beautiful GP's assistant awaited me for my appointment around my by-pass.

The GP refused to refer me to a heart specialist - says there is absolutely nothing wrong with me and the only thing I have is indigestion - maybe it is a broken heart for C I am suffering from. After GP went to Dixon's and bought me a DIY pacemaker set, if I can't have the real thing then this will have to do.

Saw an advertisement for a Brazilian wax for men - wonder what that is, must remember (if Alzheimer doesn't hit again) to check it some time soon.

Back to the grind today - can't imagine I need to do this at least for another 10 years.

No. of Ferraris spotted today - 1 and the guy didn't look older then 35 - where did I go wrong ?
No. of impure thoughts - 32 (either about C or Aston - meeting them together would be heaven)
No. of impulse purchases - eye lift of Nivea - they claim that Q10 stuff really works - maybe I could use it on other parts of my body too ?

Tried to on some of my collegues some of the things I learned. It must have been a waste of money, they all glazed on me and looked like I just went into my mid-life crisis. What the hell do they know, already left that behind years ago when I bought my Porsche.

Have an appointment with my GP tomorrow - think I am ready for that by-pass - I have the age for it and seems fashionable to have one nowadays - makes you part of the inner circle of those who lived life to the fullest.

How on earth did I ever get persuaded to go away for a week on a 'Find your Inner New Man' programme? It was hell, and I didn't even have access to a computer, so I've got a lot of news to catch up on.

No. of hot women participants on the programme - zero
No. of hot women instructors on the programme - one (thank goodness for Tai Chi....)
No. of ugly and/or boring male participants on the programme - 10
No. of ugly and/or boring male participants on the programme driving red Ferraris and Porsches - 10

Day 1 was 3 hours of 'Drumming away your inner conflict' followed by 2 hours of 'Yogic breathing'. Was just about to find a quiet spot to end it all when I spotted her - Aston, the Tai Chi instructor. Tall, red-haired, willowy - could this really be a rival to C, the girl I've been in love with all these months since our eyes met on the balcony of the Oxo Tower? At last, I have something to keep me sane during the daily coloic irrigation sessions.

More to follow.....

No. of Ferraris spotted today - 0 (but I saw 2 Porsches. Why did I ever get rid of mine? I wonder if I could buy it back? )
No. of impure thoughts - 10 (all were about C - but I was too busy for very much daydreaming today)
No. of impulse purchases - 1 pair of distressed skinny jeans. (Will these work for dress down Friday in the City? Probably only if I start trying to pour myself into them on Thursday)

When did I last really let my hair down? (No comments about hair please - that might offend). Just as well I've got good friends who keep me grounded. The lovely J, and dear H - what would I do without them? They are organising a birthday party for me, and although I've been telling them that I don't want any fuss, they know that deep down I like it when they spoil me. I just hope that they don't have any more of their practical jokes planned. I've never fully recovered from that fake D&I survey. But darn, the questions just seemed so real at the time....