Pam's very nice so far as she goes

The kind of looks I usually admire

A few quid in the bank is a help

Yet she doesn't set my heart on fire

 

Nancy on the other hand is poor

She's no Monroe or Lana Turner

More a down-market Bette Davis

A plain Jane, and a bit of a yearner

 

Just how do you weigh up women?

What should go into the scales?

Why can't I be spontaneous

Sit back, let the wind fill my sails?

 

Instead I natter and dither

With plus or minus I'm obsessed

Status, height, knee-caps or hair

I'm like a calculator possessed

 

Will I ever change my perspectives

Diev in and just go for broke?

My inhibitions are super-glued

I've tried but each time I choke

 

I'm after non-existent perfection

But is this quest merely a defence?

Deep down do I fear getting close,

Is that why I teeter on the fence?

 

For I was badly hurt as a kid

My gerbil died when I was young

Do I associate love with rejection

Where intimacy risks getting stung?

 

Today I had a quiet word with Pam

Told her she wasn't the one for me

Did the same with poor Nancy

Once more I seemed finally free

 

Tomorrow morning's my first session

My latest therapist is called Titania

But I'm not sure if we'll get on, for she's a

Bleached blonde with thin thighs from Rumania