Sunday, November 06, 2005

My Unlikely Aphrodisiac

I've been working on a potential client with a politico who used to work for Tony Blair, the British PM. He is Scottish (from a town only a few miles from where I grew up), he's married, he's a dad. And might I hasten to add that he is completely not my type and not someone who inspired in me any feelings beyond collegial platonic pleasantness.

Now, I have met with him in person, I have spent time with him in a group, I've hung out with him, so I am familiar with him already. I liked him just fine, but nothing more exciting than that.

And then he left me a voice mail.

"Hallooaah E, this is [Married Scottish Business Acquaintance]. How arrrre ye todee?" I have never thought twice about him before but hearing his thick, wonderful Scottish accent made my knees instantly weak. The baby daddy was there when I got the message, so I made him listen to it to tell me if it was making him equally googly. No sale--obviously.

But weak kneed I was. Over nothing more than an accent. What is up with that?!

My fear is not that I have turned into a lame-assed housefrau ready to throw her bra at Tom Jones (although I'd be lying if that hadn't entered my mind) but that I could be just lame enough to someday find myself on the phone with a 600 pound drunk and stinky Scotsman but be inexplicably thinking, "Oooooh! Talk to me big fella!"

Send help now...

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