Catching Up With Friends From High School Days Isn’t Always What You Expect
“I’ve got to be honest – I don’t really remember you from all those years ago.”
“Huh? You invited me out here and you don’t even remember me?” I said.
“Well, I vaguely… Wait – didn’t you have long hair?”
“Yeah, that was me.”
“It’s all coming back to me. Inkerman is your brother right? I was his first kiss. He was such a virgin.”
She was a little chunkier than back in the day. To be unfair, she was a lot chunkier. Long bleached hair now, very short ginger hair then. When she invited me out it crossed my mind that she might be a superfan. She might try to seduce me, not just inviting me out for a friendly catch-up.
“Two shots of tequila thanks,” she said to the waitress. She turned to me “And do you want anything?”
“I’ll have a sangria.”
“One jug of sangria,” she said.
She was Matt O’Haid’s sister. He was a piece of work, a troublemaker in school. She couldn’t get into my school because of his reputation. She wasn’t quite as rough.
“Yeah, I’ve settled down more or less. I haven’t been in a fight in three years. Not since I moved to Melbourne.
“My housemate is a strange bloke. The last girlfriend he had was six foot tall, blonde and Swedish. He’s 5’7″, overweight, nerdy, and shit dress sense. All his friends were saying wow, how did you bag that one? He was never phased by it though.
“Then they broke up… I was with him at the pub and she messaged him. I grabbed the phone and texted ‘Hey it’s Thelma show us your tits’ and she wrote back ‘No.’ He texted ‘You pussy.’ But she must have misread it as ‘Your pussy’ and got so offended that she broke up with him. She’d always get offended over little stuff like that.”
I was momentarily distracted by a woman walking past with great cleavage. She looked over and saw me checking her out. I made eye contact.
Thelma laughed. “I can’t believe how much you get away with.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m surprised her boyfriend didn’t come back to smack you one.”
“Why? He should be proud.”
“Yeah. I think she liked the attention.”
“Probably. Anyway, I just got back from the States.”
“I know.”
“Oh right. Of course you know. #1 fan.” Hard to know what to talk about when someone has read your life story on the Internet.
We shoot the tequila and take a sip of sangria.
“That is good tequila,” I say.
“Yeah. Let’s have another.”
“I wasn’t planning on having a big night. I have to work tomorrow at 11. Plus I’ve only got $30 in my wallet.”
“Don’t worry – I’ve got you covered. How much do you expect to earn tomorrow?”
“Uh… after tax.. about $100.”
“What if I said I’d give you $100 and you could call in sick.”
“I’d probably take the money and still go to work. Why are you so loose with the purse strings anyway?”
“Ah. It’s a good thing about when they make you a full-time employee at a major bank. You get insured to the eyeballs. I’m collecting disability insurance.”
I looked her up and down. “Right. So what exactly is your disability?”
“I’m diagnosed psychotic. Deemed unfit to work.”
“Oh. So all you have to do to get rich is lose your marbles.”
“That’s right.”
We finished our meals and Thelma ordered our third carafe of sangria.
“How do you drink this stuff?” she said. “It just tastes like red wine.”
We went into the courtyard. It was past closing time, but somehow Thelma knew a girl there – a bartender from a pub in Brunswick who was friends with the waitress here at Vegie Bar. The bartender girl was also a butch lesbian, who had her femme ex-girlfriend with her, who Thelma proceeded to blatantly hit on.
“Wow. You’re gay?” said Thelma. “You don’t look gay – I wouldn’t have picked it. You just look… gorgeous. What nationality are you?”
“Half-Indonesian, half-Portuguese.”
“Really? Wow. You’re gorgeous. I mean, I’m not gay or anything. But wow.” Kinda sleazy.
Eventually we were asked to leave Vegie Bar, perhaps because Tylia was tired of watching her ex-girlfriend be sexually harrassed.
We went to the Evelyn and saw a hip hop band. Pretty good, but I can’t remember the name. I was too loaded.
We went outside for a smoke. While we were standing there, a girl came and accidentally on purpose elbow-swiped Thelma.
“What the fuck? I’m going over there to let that bitch know what’s what!”
“Just let it go. Who cares,” I said.
Within thirty seconds, Thelma had the bitch in a headlock, swinging her around in a circle that was clearing around them.
“Is that your girlfriend?” said some dude with a ponytail and a baseball cap.
“No, just a friend of mine I knew from high school days.”
“What happened?”
“Some girl came up and side-swiped her so she retaliated.”
“Ah. Probably the boyfriend wanting a fight so he got his girl to start it. Don’t worry, you’ll be okay.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey! Is that your fucking boyfriend?!” said the bitch’s boyfriend.
“No, that’s not my fucking boyfriend!” said Thelma.
“Well he’s with you, and since he’s with you, I’m gonna fuck him up!”
“No you’re not you fucking asshole!” said Thelma. “He’s got nothing to do with this!”
“He’s a skinny fuck and I’m gonna hit him!”
“Be cool baby,” I said.
“What?!” he said.
“I said be cool.”
“Don’t tell me what to do you son of a bitch!”
A mysterious barricade of Fitzroyalty swelled in front of him. He couldn’t touch me – the peace-loving people of Brunswick Street had decided. Thelma stood there for another five minutes telling him off. I grabbed her and said “I think it’s time we left.” We walked up the street.
“I’m so sorry about that. That never happens. Really, I haven’t been in a fight for years.”
“Yeah. I think that’s it for me,” I said.
“What? No, it’s only 11:30. Come on, I know this place on Sydney Road.”
We got into a cab, and Thelma directed the cabby straight to her place. I should have seen that one coming.
She was a /b/tard. I should have seen that coming as well. She spent about half an hour showing me her /b/ folder and feeding me beers. Then she put her arm around me. Then we went to bed.
She started going down on me for about five minutes.
Then she blurted out “Wanna root?”
“Hahahahahahahhahahahahaaaa,” I said.
“Hhahahahahahah. Hahaha. Haha. No.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I was considering it, but when you put it that way, no.”
“Why not?”
“You can’t say it like that.”
“Why not?”
“You just can’t.”
“Oh. Well… You’re welcome to come over any time… At least it makes a good story for your site…”
I passed out, and went to work the next morning feeling like shit.
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Comments (4)
u didn’t turn me down when i asked u for a root u big pooftah!
[Reply]
Kurt Robinson Reply:
August 17th, 2009 at 11:31 pm
the no was implied while i was running out of your house to get away from you… fag
[Reply]
yeah lucky im a fast runner, or my story would be worthless
[Reply]
[...] “Yeah man, it was insane,” I said. “She started cracking onto a lesbian in front of her ex-girlfriend, then we went to the Evelyn and she got in a fight with some chick.” [...]