Sofa Storms

"There are people you are allowed to fancy. And people you are not allowed to fancy. She would be one of the later." This from mrs househusbandnot yesterday after a passing comment from me about the sultry French girl who had just served us in Oddbins, and had made "That will be £13.00" sound like a very serious proposal of group sex.

I didn't - and don't get it. This from the woman (mrs hhn) who thinks it is entirely acceptable to sit on the sofa watching James Martin every Saturday morning while stroking a copy of one of his books. And who thinks I will be okay with her fancying one of those fat Geordie cooks who motorbike their way around Asia because, she says, they remind her of me.

A little later we were watching television, and mrs hhn comments that a particular girl from Gavin And Stacey looks sexy (The Blond one btw.). I agree, saying she looks a bit like an old girlfriend...

...and the storms came in from the North, and the frozen winds blew, and then there was a third ice age, centering in and around the sofa in hhn/mrs hhn's sitting room. And the planet - well our sofa - was surrounded by a devastating cold and bone-chilling waves of solid white frost, and all living things that came in the way of the storms were frozen solid.

After a lot of stares that would stop a polar bear in its tracks, and refusals to be consoled, and serious assault on me with the TV remote, mrs hhn eventually came back down from her icy domain and would talk to me again...kind of.

Again people, I don't get it. It is not like I said anything wrong. Or am I missing something here? ("OBVIOUSLY" I hear the entire female population scream.) I get that it is not cool to stroll around saying "Oh, she's hot. She's great. She's...etc" about every other woman on the street, or TV. But mrs hhn had said it in the first place. It's not like I would have said it if she hadn't mentioned it first. And what about the whole We Can be Honest With Each Other thang? I'd rather mrs hhn told me about fancying people than not telling me. And we do have jokes and stuff about people we know who fancy her. (And about the occasional woman who looks at me with anything more than withering derision or blank disinterest. [This does include an old bird who lives around the corner who kind of melts every time she sees me. She is scary, and looks like a thin version of that ugly old woman off Bo`Selecta. ]) What was so wrong?

Maybe it was the double thing? With the girl in the shop and then the girl on TV. Or was it because neither of them looked anything like mrs hhn? (This opens up a whole other area of disconnect between mrs hhn and I re it being a good thing when I fancy women who look like her.) Or it could have been that we had just had a bad time at the Vanity Fair photo exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery? (I'm fishing here I know. But as an aside, I/we have never been to such an appallingly badly organised show, which was also being - as far as we could see - exclusively visited yesterday by people who 1) had no concept of personal space 2) had forgotten how to walk in a straight line, and 3) were just IN THE WAAAAAAAAAAY.) Was it because I was reading the Emma Bunton How I Lost Weight Eating Chocolate story in the News Of The World magazine for too long? (Reminding ourselves that my admittance at the end of last year that I fancied Emma Bunton resulted in a long long time in mrs hhn purgatory. [Actually, I just checked Emma's official site, and realise that that particular punishment was fair enough She does look like a sectioned receptionist at a Trust House Forte hotel.] ) Was it...well whatever it was, I blew it pretty badly with my various comments on other women yesterday. I am going to stick to not saying anything any more. (Which I do still feel is exactly how stalkers get their first feel for their chosen recreation. But anything for an easier life. Damn it was cold on that sofa last night.)