I’m not your catcher, I drop things.

Dropping into visit a friend last week the last thing I was expecting was an intervention.

‘Well, an intervention of sorts’ my friend muttered, trying to avoid my look of disdain I was firmly aiming at her ‘a boyfriend intervention.’

‘I’m ok, I don’t need any help’

‘You say that Lou, but we both think Todd would be great for you.’

http://i0006.photobucket.com/albums/0006/findstuff22/Best%20Images/Quotes%20and%20Sayings/cheesey11.jpg

And by Todd, my friend and her boyfriend of barely 4 months meant, Todd – a guy who’s current interests were ‘mortgages and getting a girlfriend’…well just strap me down, shove a Still Nox in me and let him get started, I’ll struggle and scream at the time but apologise in the morning for my belligerence.

‘Don’t be like that Lou; we both think you’re being stubborn and what for? The sake of your own happiness?’

‘Yes, for the sake of this conversation I’m willing to sacrifice my happiness and not meet with Todd, I have no problem meeting people.’

‘But you never keep them do you?’

‘I’m a minimalist’

‘Don’t be cute Lou’

‘Can’t help it.’

‘Speaking of which, you’ve got 5 years of that cute stuff left, tops.’

‘5 years more than you’ I spat back

‘Well at least I have a uterus.’

‘What does that even mean? I have a uterus’

‘Do you Lou? Do you?’

‘Yes’

‘If you don’t use it, you know it disappears, shrivels up and dies and then you get cancer because something needs to grow there.’

‘You can’t practice using a uterus.’

‘Can’t you Lou? Can’t you?’

‘No, unless you’ve taken up late term abortions as a hobby.’

‘I can’t believe you just said that. We’re Catholic Lou – you’re general lack of tolerance for others just upset’s me Lou, it upsets me,’

‘I’m sorry’ I mumbled back as I realised I wouldn’t be sticking around long enough to enjoy a slice of the chocolate cake that had sat cooling on the kitchen bench during our conversation.

‘It’s ok Lou.’

‘I best be off then. Nice to see the two of you again. The tomatoes out the front look great.’

‘So should I tell Todd to give you a call sometime? You know before you launch into trying to have a career in comedy again? You know before you get too serious with it all?’

‘Yeah, that’d be great and I have the perfect date idea.’

‘Oh do tell’

‘I’m going to take him down to the train tracks and we can take it in goes pushing each other in front of oncoming express trains.’

‘You know what Lou, don’t bother calling until you grow up.’

‘That’s fine, wasn’t planning on calling anyway, I’ve run out of credit.’

I left my friend’s house feeling less than triumphant, maybe in part because she was slightly right, quite clearly not about the uterus thing but more with the ‘keeping’ thing. When it came to the ‘keeping’ thing, to say I was socially damaged/ inept/ prone to disaster would be putting it kindly, like a friend telling me that I can wear high necked shirts when even I know I can’t pull that look off.

An example of social retardation when it comes to intimacy and dealing with the men in my life was all too recent. I’d met a guy when I went away, we got on, we hung out, and it was nice. When it was time to call it a day rather than say something cool like ‘you must let me buy you a drink sometime’ (Ok, that felt creepy even as I typed it) or something honest like ‘it’d be nice to hang out and get to know you more’ (which once I graduate from high school will be of no use to me anymore) I merely gave him an awkward hug, slapped him on the arm and said ‘so have a good year.’ Yep, I know what you’re thinking, could you get any hotter Lou? Could you be any more alluring? No, I don’t think I could be even if I tried…

And then I went to a party and ran into someone more socially inept then me when it comes to the opposite sex, but more along the lines of he might be charged for a sex crime in the future and I had no interest in ‘keeping’ him. We were already friends, but I had been warned off being around him when he had been drinking from mutual friends, apparently he had some fantasy involving Latino housemaids and well you know me after one Vodka Cruiser…may I clean your banister sir?

‘Hi Lou you should keep that tan Lou, it suits you, how’d you get it?

‘It’s natural, I have olive skin.’

‘I’ve never touched olive skin before.’

‘It’s the same as any other skin.’

‘Can I touch your skin?’

‘No.’

‘If I bought you a drink maybe you’d let me touch it then?’

‘Can we please stop talking about touching skin.’

‘You’re a feisty girl aren’t you Lou…I like feisty girls.’

‘I’m sure there’s a website that’ll help you out there.’

‘Ha, you’re funny, tell me what are your thoughts on casual sex?’

‘That is can never be casual and that it’s not something I’m going to discuss with you.’

‘ooh, way to shoot a man down Lou.’

‘I’m not shooting you down, there’s nothing too shoot, I just don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Well maybe I can come home with you and talk it over, I think it could be fun getting to know each other..?’

‘No.’

‘It’s just my flatmate is a really loud snorer.’

‘You’ll cope.’

‘Be honest with me Lou, am I barking up the wrong tree? Was it the olive skin comment did that put you off? Do you think I’m a racist?.’

‘No, it’s fine..I’m going home.’

‘Wanna split a cab’

‘No’

‘You’re going to blog about this aren’t you?’

‘Yes, probably.’

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