my perfect man

My Perfect Man by

As I walked aimlessly down my mundane suburban street, window shopping, looking and longing for all the items I’d like to own but didn’t have the money for, it hit me, literally. Well, it was more of a nudge than a hit. But I definitely felt something. I looked around me but nobody was inside a ten-foot radius. A quick look up registered nothing skyward or extra-terrestrial. Assuming that this out of body experience must be yet another stage of impending middle age, (I was approaching 26!) I walked on. No, there it was again, firmer this time, on the arm just above the elbow. Bemused and more than a little scared. I stood motionless and stared at the large pane of glass in front of me. Slowly the body of a man started to materialise next to my reflection. Six foot, dark and swarthy looking. He was dressed in denim jeans, cowboy boots, white linen shirt and a flying jacket. He slipped his arm inside mine and we started to walk off down the street as any couple in love would. I lent my head on his shoulder and drank in the subtle aroma of some rather expensive smelling after shave.

“Anything special you want to do today Cass?” he said casually.

I wanted to say ‘Get married. Make love. Go skinny dipping’. But what I actually said was “A cup of tea would be nice”.

He led me to the curb side, opened the door to a stunning powder blue, convertible and ushered me in. We sped off out of the drab town and thundered down meandering country lanes as fields of vibrant yellow rape seed rushed before my wind-blown hair and eyes. After a few miles we came to an abrupt stop on loose gravel outside my favourite ever tea shop, ‘Bumbles’ on the outskirts of Harrogate. It was the perfect summer evening and we sat outside on an ornate wrought iron framed table and chairs and sipped tea from china cups and just chatted. We talked about anything and everything and he listened and showed genuine interest in everything I told him. We drove home more sedately and having extricated myself from the sportster we climbed the three flights of stairs to my apartment. We quickly settled down on the sofa together with a large glass of Barolo in our hands. I looked longingly into his big brown eyes and ached to kiss him and as he lent across, I closed my eyes and waited and waited and waited.

Suddenly, I felt a familiar nudge.

“How you doing Cass?” a uniformed nurse asked.

“We’re taking you down now”.

“Just fine” I replied.

“But can I have more of that pre-med when it’s over!”



Tim Kirton is a semi-retired Physical Education and English teacher who is a successful children’s novelist and prize-winning flash and short fiction writer. He is passionate about Golf, Arsenal, American Dirty Realism and Estuaries.  He lives in the Peak District and has one son living in Australia.


My Perfect Man was first published in Glittery Literary Anthology Volume 2


“Sprite!” by The Rocketeer is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0




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