ANTI-VALENTINE'S DAY CONTEST - Polly's Blind Date Disaster...
My date was but two weeks ago, just before v-day. My friend Emmy and her
partner John invited me out to dinner with John's friend Gary, 'just to
make up four at the table'. (yeh, sure!). I thought, 'what the hell, it
could be fun!'
When I saw Gary I thought "Uh, no." He wasn't at all my
type, and he was about 20 years older that the guys I like to go out
with (he was over 50).
At the dinner table Gary made pleasant
conversation, but it wasn't long before he started talking about his
most recent bout of depression, (oh dear, now we all go through periods
of depression, but we usually manage to keep the details private,
especially on a 'date'!). Then he asked me to elaborate on a number of
things he seemed to already know about me - 'creepy' was my conclusion,
but I batted off any personal enquiries and asked him questions about
his own opinions, which he wasn't expecting. After dinner we all went
back to Emmy's house for 'drinks'.
Gary and the others wanted my opinion
on some artworks he'd brought with him. (yeh yeh, 'why don't you come up
and see my etchings?') We all sat down in the loungeroom with cool
drinks and continued to chat. Soon enough, Emmy and John went to the
kitchen, leaving me alone with Gary (groan). Oh Jesus.
Gary resumed
talking about 'his' depression, and about his desire to 'work in a third
world country', just to reinforce the impression he was hoping to make
as a 'caring, sensitive, and compassionate guy', and playing hard on my
(non-existent) sympathy. Obviously feeling comfortable with me, he just
lay on the floor like a big blob, with his shirt hanging out of his
trousers and barely concealing his grey-haired gut (when the bloody hell
are the other two coming back in??). Then he said to me "I might have a
bong soon". A 'bong'?, I hadn't heard that word used in years. I just
ignored his comment and started planning a polite escape. Being way too
polite, I let him go on about himself a bit longer. He said again "I
might have a bong soon" (god, you're serious!), "is it OK with you if I
do?" I smiled and said, "Hey, do whatever you like, it's got nothing to
do with me", and I went to the kitchen to say goodbye to Emmy.
Now, I
assumed that Gary would just go outside and have a quiet smoke under a
tree and contemplate the unusually warm weather or something, but no. He
followed me to the kitchen, and brought out his weed, his bowl and
started mulling up at the table. I thought that was just plain rude. But
then out came - The Bong.
Jesus F. Christ, you should have seen this
thing! It was a plastic orange juice bottle that looked like it had been
in his possession since his undergraduate days in the 70s!! It was absolutely filthy,
lined with black muck from years and years of
'self-medication' as he called it. And did he go outside and sit under a
tree? No, he just lit up at the table. John shrugged his shoulders, Emmy
looked like she was having an aneurysm, but I think I may have actually
had one. She very politely asked him to smoke outside. I left.
"So, what did Polly think of me?" Gary asked Emmy...
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