St Valentine's Teeth

The day was the 12th of February 2012 and in two days it would be the second most difficult day of the year for single people. (if you have to ask what the first one is you have either never being single or you're a Jedi).

His invitation came just in time and lifted her above the panic like a hot air balloon. 

Within seconds she became one of those people that said (with an air of petulance): “What’s the big deal? It’s only another day!”, as she looked at "The Dateless" through the safety of her  basket. 

It was only when she was alone, squeezed amongst the crowds of the Northern Line six o’clock tube (aka train aka metro for any International readers) that she admitted it to herself. 
She never would have accepted the invitation under “normal circumstances”.

On the morning of the 15th of February as she prepared her oatmeal breakfast in the office microwave she recounted her date. A tale of teeth and shoe trees. 

With her kind permission I share it with you - For Carol.(Names have been changed to protect the innocent).

-I knew it would never go beyond a first date when I saw his fillings. Even though everything else about him was perfect the black little squares colouring the bottom of his upper teeth made any attraction whatsoever impossible. 
I became fidgety. 
What was I doing here anyway?

These teeth betrayed a negligence that I could never learn to live with. He neglected that which he thought others could not see. 

On the contrary, everything that was on show was polished. 

He seemed to love his shoes more than his teeth. 

At some point during a lull in conversation (of which there were many) he told me that he was on the market for shoe-trees.

Shoe trees?.... 

At the time of this announcement I was happily unaware of the existence of such a contraption.  Unfortunately he “corrected” that.

I would rather have asked a five year old to conjure up a story about shoe trees rather than hear which shoes they would be keeping pristine. (That is what they do. They keep your shoes in shape - what joy).

What about your teeth? I wanted to blurt out but off course my manners would not allow such an outburst.

We were in a french bistro drinking a lovely Claret. Teeth and Claret don’t go together. 

Especially if they are wooden. His teeth had become stained by the claret so now when he arched his head to laugh at his jokes they were an amalgamation of red, white and black. 

A connection was made inside me that would last forever, between the wood of the shoe trees and teeth. Whenever I see stained teeth from now on i will think of shoe trees, but I will keep it to myself. 

Being knowledgeable of my own short-comings I periodically skipped to the bathroom to “powder my nose” but mainly (really) to give my teeth a little brush. 

How much of life can you bite off? I always like to give the impression that I can hack off quite a sizable chunk. Is that rude?

By the time I returned to the table I had made my mind up about two things: 

No 1. Sometimes our own company is better then tales of shoe trees. (Even on Valentine's night).

No2. I needed to book a check up appointment with my dentist.