canât be too picky about nouns, can I?
I guess not.
She puts the photo back in her bag, nods again, looks at the door, seems to be enduring something uncomfortable. This time I hold off, figuring Iâve used words as Spakfilla for pauses more than enough in this conversation.
Wendy says things are a bit quiet this month for you. At work. Or did I say that already?
She pulls a tissue out of her bag, wrenches it slowly apart under the table.
Mid-afternoon I have a no-show. George passes my open door with coffee while Iâm checking some lab results.
Hey,
he says, coming back and standing in the doorway.
How was the date?
Date? There was no date.
People say youâve been lunching with,
he looks around, checks the corridor,
chicks with eighties hair.
I should never have said that. I should never have said eighties hair.
And you think if you hadnât no-one would have noticed?
Oh, itâs all so
Flashdance.
So how was the date? You did go, didnât you? Remember, no-one leaves baby in the corner.
What?
Itâs a
Flashdance
quote.
Shit youâre good with that stuff.
Hey, there were generations that quoted Shakespeare. Iâm part of a long tradition.
And regardless of that, it wasnât a date.
Okay, but if itâs not a date, why would Wendy mention it to me?
Why wouldnât she? It wasnât a secret. Did she mention it in any particular way?
Should she have?
She might have. I think youâve got this one wrong, Porge. If Katie said anything to Wendy afterwards she would just have been calling to tell her she works with a fuckwit.
Canât see why sheâd bother to do that. Wendyâs known you for years.
It wasnât the best lunch.
What do you mean?
I think Katie doesnât get out much. I talked a lot. I think itâs having a baby. It makes you disinhibited. I talked a lot, and she didnât. So I talked more. I told her about fireplaces. I told her about spitting on myself today. I told her I named my child after a legume. Those things would not have happened had it been either a reasonable social occasion or a date. I think we both know that.
I think we do,
he says, and laughs.
Spat on yourself, hey? You sure know how to get them horny.
Itâs a long story. And entirely without horn. And lunch was just lunch. You know lunch? I have lunch with you sometimes. And I think a lot of you, but itâs no date. I have lunch with people. Itâs something I do.
No itâs not.
Look, you tell me all the time, everyone tells me all the time. Get out and do things. Even if itâs only lunch with people. Katie actually does something moredynamic than the rest of you, we agree on a time and place and suddenly itâs a date. You werenât there. It was no date. It was a casual suggestion made in an email. Lunch, coffee, casual. The suggestion, anyway. It was just a sort of coffee-friend thing to do.
Is that a category? Coffee friend?
Of course itâs a category. And itâs a nice, supportive, non-date category. And the fact that she went from coffee â which was the original suggestion â to lunch, just like that, actually shows how much of a big deal it isnât. Iâve been on dates, you know. In the eighties, back when Katie got the hair. Iâve been on dates, and they werenât like today.
No, this is the thing. Youâve been out of the loop a while. My guess is you were on a mid-thirties date. It doesnât work the same.
No, no. No date. We showed each other photos. Bean photos, cat photos. What does that sound like to you?
Oh, north African fruit, grows on a palm, dark brown, sticky, sweet. No idea what it sounds like to me. Itâs a mid-thirties date.
Oh no. If thatâs a date this entire demographic sucks. If thatâs what happens to you on dates, stick to the goodwill of your own two hands. George, that canât be a date. We canât be so bloody old that we accept that thatâs
I guess not.
She puts the photo back in her bag, nods again, looks at the door, seems to be enduring something uncomfortable. This time I hold off, figuring Iâve used words as Spakfilla for pauses more than enough in this conversation.
Wendy says things are a bit quiet this month for you. At work. Or did I say that already?
She pulls a tissue out of her bag, wrenches it slowly apart under the table.
Mid-afternoon I have a no-show. George passes my open door with coffee while Iâm checking some lab results.
Hey,
he says, coming back and standing in the doorway.
How was the date?
Date? There was no date.
People say youâve been lunching with,
he looks around, checks the corridor,
chicks with eighties hair.
I should never have said that. I should never have said eighties hair.
And you think if you hadnât no-one would have noticed?
Oh, itâs all so
Flashdance.
So how was the date? You did go, didnât you? Remember, no-one leaves baby in the corner.
What?
Itâs a
Flashdance
quote.
Shit youâre good with that stuff.
Hey, there were generations that quoted Shakespeare. Iâm part of a long tradition.
And regardless of that, it wasnât a date.
Okay, but if itâs not a date, why would Wendy mention it to me?
Why wouldnât she? It wasnât a secret. Did she mention it in any particular way?
Should she have?
She might have. I think youâve got this one wrong, Porge. If Katie said anything to Wendy afterwards she would just have been calling to tell her she works with a fuckwit.
Canât see why sheâd bother to do that. Wendyâs known you for years.
It wasnât the best lunch.
What do you mean?
I think Katie doesnât get out much. I talked a lot. I think itâs having a baby. It makes you disinhibited. I talked a lot, and she didnât. So I talked more. I told her about fireplaces. I told her about spitting on myself today. I told her I named my child after a legume. Those things would not have happened had it been either a reasonable social occasion or a date. I think we both know that.
I think we do,
he says, and laughs.
Spat on yourself, hey? You sure know how to get them horny.
Itâs a long story. And entirely without horn. And lunch was just lunch. You know lunch? I have lunch with you sometimes. And I think a lot of you, but itâs no date. I have lunch with people. Itâs something I do.
No itâs not.
Look, you tell me all the time, everyone tells me all the time. Get out and do things. Even if itâs only lunch with people. Katie actually does something moredynamic than the rest of you, we agree on a time and place and suddenly itâs a date. You werenât there. It was no date. It was a casual suggestion made in an email. Lunch, coffee, casual. The suggestion, anyway. It was just a sort of coffee-friend thing to do.
Is that a category? Coffee friend?
Of course itâs a category. And itâs a nice, supportive, non-date category. And the fact that she went from coffee â which was the original suggestion â to lunch, just like that, actually shows how much of a big deal it isnât. Iâve been on dates, you know. In the eighties, back when Katie got the hair. Iâve been on dates, and they werenât like today.
No, this is the thing. Youâve been out of the loop a while. My guess is you were on a mid-thirties date. It doesnât work the same.
No, no. No date. We showed each other photos. Bean photos, cat photos. What does that sound like to you?
Oh, north African fruit, grows on a palm, dark brown, sticky, sweet. No idea what it sounds like to me. Itâs a mid-thirties date.
Oh no. If thatâs a date this entire demographic sucks. If thatâs what happens to you on dates, stick to the goodwill of your own two hands. George, that canât be a date. We canât be so bloody old that we accept that thatâs
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