I Don’t Mind

We’re out and, as happens, someone is engaging my girlfriend in conversation. While that’s happening I get to sit there, maybe chat with the rather pleasant people around me. I know! How odd!

It’s a restaurant in a pretty small community and it seemed as if everyone knew everyone else but, unlike most small communities, these people really seemed to get along. They were talking about choking (I didn’t say they weren’t a tad weird) and how, if the bartender started choking at home, he’d be screwed because the only other living thing there was a cat.

“The cat would help.” I interject. “But only to get the food for himself.”

People laugh and various ramifications of the kitty Heimlich are bantered about. One guy, a dog guy, starts making fun of cats. People are laughing and he turns to me to make sure I’m not disturbed by the jokes.

“You don’t have cats, do you?”

I hold up two fingers and now the guy sees he’s outnumbered by cat people. When my girlfriend hears the mention of cats she spins from her conversation, tells a quick story about the greatness of our cats and turns back.

All in all, it was painless. It was short, no one tried to dominate, people finished their dinner and excused themselves.

During a lull when I’m alone with my TV and beer (there should be a bar called TV & Beer that follows that rule. ‘Whoa! That’s gonna hurt in the morning!’ would be the longest allowable conversation) and the guy who’s been talking to my girlfriend leans past her to ask if I mind him talking to her so much.

“Not at all. I figure if someone’s talking to her I don’t have to.”

Everyone sitting around, including my girlfriend, laughed as the men nodded their heads in that ‘truer words are rarely spoken, stranger’ manner.


7 responses to “I Don’t Mind

  1. Wha…what exactly are you saying, Chris? Are you saying that women, lovely superior creatures that we are, have a tendency to prattle on and on and that men, nasty habited ill-tempered zombies that they are, are put upon to listen to this prattling and nod occasionally to give the impression they are listening and even digesting the information out of fear they will be forced to go without cooked food, sex, or the clicker?

  2. Yes, Wendy, I think that’s what he’s saying. And you superior creatures should realize how damn lucky you are to have good listeners like Chris and me to validate your blather.

    I am no zombie I can tell you that. Nasty habited and ill-tempered maybe, but hey, who isn’t? As far as “digesting” the information, I prefer to puke it up while it’s still fresh on the stomach.

    I like the way this post freely distributes the load of conversational responsibility.

  3. Chris, that was funny. Did your girlfirend make you pay for the comment?

    Wendy, I have found that interjecting random words such as ass-crackers, wakes them right up.

  4. > Did your girlfriend make you pay for the comment?
    Are you kidding? A perfect day for her would be where I had laryngitis and blisters on my fingers so I couldn’t type my stupid comments.

    Spud-fucker also achieves interesting reactions.

    Must be something about food and genitals/genital activity.

  5. I’ve found that “fucktard” usually does the trick around here, though I will probably try asscracker and spud-fucker tomorrow for some holiday cheer.

    @ David – I meant to add “surly” to the list.

  6. > David – I meant to add “surly” to the list.
    Awww! Wendy! There ya go, warming my cockles again!

  7. This story reminds me of my husband who when asked if he liked whatever I have cooked for supper will reply “It wasn’t bad,” as he licks his plate clean.

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