January 19, 2009

have yourself a dime's worth of talking

"Excuse me, do you mind if you I use your phone to make a call to my friend?" a weirdly accented voice asked me. "My phone's run out of minutes and texts." I could not decide if it was some sort of English/Irish or something else crazy. Arkansas it turns out.

My phone was on the table. I felt rude to say no. I said okay. The Arkansas man grinned widely and sat down. He was wearing at least 4 layers of outerwear. Simone, Henry and I exchanged looks. He did not smell or anything. His eyes were vaguely bloodshot. I took note of his position at our table. It would be difficult for him to run away with my phone, although if he did I wouldn't be too upset since I am perpetually annoyed with that model anyway.

He proceeded to have several brief pleading conversations with who he later said was his girlfriend ("she's 45 but she looks like she's 25!") who was kicking him out of the apartment which she makes him sleep on the living room floor of because he in some way upset her.
Twenty minutes later of listening to "Please don't hang up again-- Baby, come on!" and "I'm trying to help you, can't you see!" and then "Now, you've gone and done it! you're making the mistake of your life, kicking me out of it!" I noticed that he never just told her he loved her.

I thought, he could've saved a lot of argument with that simple sentiment. If he said it sincerely, of course. Maybe he didn't love her. I wasn't going to pry.
After that episode he was still sitting at our table and proceeded to tell us his entire relationship history including the fact that he recently tested positive for Hepatitis C and he wonders if his girlfriend will contract it since she scratched him on the face and got some blood under her fingernails. Oh but not to worry because it's not really an STD it's just blood-transferable.

This, while an unusual chance meeting with a stranger, was surprisingly dull and boring and I lost interest quickly. Henry looked very uncomfortable. Simone is slightly more use to encountering urban weirdos. I made a show of putting on my gloves and coat and H flew with it saying we needed to be somewhere and we left.

"Kam'samnida!" he cheerfully called after me as I walked out of the door.
It struck me then. That po-dunk son of a B had yellow fever. On top of Hepatitis C. What an unfortunate lot in life.

His girlfriend called back my phone several times and I ignored each one. She left a voicemail. She sounded small and alone and worried. Finally I picked up and told her where we left him. I told her I hope everthing works out. I guess I meant it. I had the urge to tell her to just leave him already if she's really as hot as he told us she is. But I didn't. That sounded like a personal problem.

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