The return of Pierce Brosnan

Women go through phases of men, but in the end tend to stick to a certain kind. At least so is the case with me. There was the experimental phase, when anything went. It’s also the phase which in my more mature years I have tried to put behind me. “Did I sleep with him? Moi? You must be kiddin’. “ The over-my-dead-body sort of reaction. The fact that I enjoyed wild romps in his shag nest seems to be completely forgotten.

Luckily the experimental phase only lasted for a few years, and I reverted back to the good old Hugh Grant. You see it was either the bad boy (he figured before, during and after the experimental phase) or Hugh Grant. In one case he was Bad Boy and Hugh Grant rolled into one. He looked like Hugh Grant AND was notoriously unfaithful. The funny thing is my mum liked him. I guess that was Hugh Grant shining through. E was another Hugh Grant with a bit of Cary Grant added for good measure (that’s what I believe they call a George Clooney nowadays).
Reinout is by no way a Hugh Grant. He looks like Barry Pepper (an unknown actor that was really hot in Saving Private Ryan), and lately he is taking on some features of Brad Pitt…to my amusement and my husband’s dismay. But running through this cavalcade of men and their Hollywood equivalents, there is one that has as of late emerged on the scene of male-hood. Pierce Brosnan.

It started years back. I was called into a meeting and there was this investor whom I had never heard of (although I apparently should have). He had a blinding smile, dark hair, mixed with a bit of gray, and eyes that sparkled as he fired off that smile. It was like meeting James Bond. This was before Daniel Craig of course, another male screen siren who in reminds me of a sexy Russian.
The meeting didn’t leave much of an impression, but James Bond did. I never saw him again, until a month into my relationship with Reinout when we were having dinner at a fancy restaurant in Amsterdam, and James Bond suddenly popped up from nowhere. By now, he wasn’t James Bond anymore (he lost that one to the ‘Russian’) but simply Pierce Brosnan.

Pierce Brosnan was invited to our wedding, but never turned up (I don’t believe he even RSVP’d) but my heart was somewhere else and thus failed to be crushed.

Early this spring, Pierce Brosnan II (or perhaps I should refer to him as Pierce Brosnan III as the original would surely take first position) made an entrance. He is my daughter’s headmaster. There we were sitting (this time in a very CHEAP restaurant in the backwaters of Haarlem) and next to us was a group of women (about 20 of them). It took some time to spot, but Pierce Brosnan II was among them, enjoying an all female company. When the time to take group pictures arrived, he gladly positioned himself in the middle of them all. James Bond do like his women after all.

Or so I thought until yesterday, when my gay neighbour walked out of his house with Pierce Brosnan III on his arm. I must say Pierce as a handbag does make a rather stunning impression.

And so my little story of Pierce Brosnan ends. I do harbour a dark fantasy though….I would love to invite them all for dinner. The ultimate indulgement for mind and eyes. Pierce are you coming?

The one and only

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