Life more chaotic than Quixotic

SHE’S a man-eater. There isn’t really any other term for it.
My best friend Becs is ‘looking for a husband’.
That’s what she calls it, but to my mind it’s more a predator/prey thing.
I’ll demonstrate. Whilst driving recently she decided that, from the look of the reflection in his rear-vision and wing mirrors, the guy driving the HSV in front of us was rather good looking. But how do you get him to notice you?
“If I ram his car, legally he’ll have to give me his phone number.”
When I pointed out what she was considering would require police attendance, she got excited about the uniforms.
“You’ll end up in court, as well,” I said.
“A lawyer? Something cute in a suit?”
Her brain really is a weapon of mass destruction - Becs actually declined to fully brake at the next intersection, causing a minor bingle. Her performance was truly stunning. In the time it took him to get out of his dented HSV and appear at her window, Becs managed to apply both lipstick and eyeliner.
“Make sure he knows you’re gay,” she whispered.
“What?!”
“Or he’ll think you’re my boyfriend.” She hitched her skirt a little higher and opened the door, putting one stiletto to the ground.
“I’m so sorry.” Cue eyelashes.
He executed a sentence peppered with more swearing than punctuation – directed not at the driver, but at me, the passenger.
I spoke for the defence – complete with requested lisp.
“Hey buddy, she’s had to pedicure a minor celebrity, sell enough eau de gastroenteritis to make commission, take her cat to the vet and still find time to coordinate her accoutrement. She’s had a tough day. Give her a break!”.
She burst into tears on cue and handed him her phone number.
She got her date. And an excess bill of $750 from her insurance company and a lecture from Daddy - apparently, that’s no way to treat a Mercedes.
The irony is, she could have any guy she wants. Becs has a great personality, money behind her and a career in over-the-counter cosmetic sales ahead of her. (Where, as she constantly complains, she meets very few men - or very few straight men, which amounts to the same thing).
But instead she drags me around everywhere. She calls me her Gucci handbag – not too expensive, very reliable, and able to go with everything.