There’s a book with that title isn’t there?! I haven’t read it, but the title stuck with me because all I think of is an old man, losing a battle with a big body of water. My friend and I were out for coffee yesterday, sitting at our local, with our feet and bags resting on adjacent stools, leaning in and gossiping in a clear ‘don’t approach’ manner. Apparently signals are very poorly read in this our lovely city, so of course a considerably older gentleman saw two girls, one wearing a dress that was far too short, and decided he had arrived! He said hello to my friend, probably seen her there before, and then casually asked ‘You don’t mind if I stand with you, do you?’ as he ordered his Tusker Malt. I looked at her and pulled out my phone, twitter time. She didn’t so much as smile as grimace, but he took it as an affirmative. He walked off, probably to call his boys to say he needed a wingman, he’d found young girls here.
His boys, clearly a tad more serious than he, of course ignored his many phone calls, so a lonely old man eventually came back to join 20-something year olds. Then the bad chat began. This is the point at which even I sat up. Surely, because you’re pushing 60/70 and you have the balls to interrupt two young girls (younger than your daughters) having a private chat, one would think you are the fucking bee’s knees of conversation. Well, here were a few gems from that deathly half hour...
‘Do you drink at X as well?’ No. No we don’t. You know why?! No? Well, I’ll tell you. We are not freaking alcoholics, that’s why. And anyway, when a bar no longer has a door, it’s time it ceased to exist.
‘I took some young girls to this place and we got there and they ditched me. They were straight on the floor...’ Eeeeem.... even the crickets will be silent for this one. Therefore? Does that prove your virility? You might have wanted to dye your hair black before you started with that conversation; I STILL don’t think you’re young, even at heart. Also, I don’t how to break it down for you, but the girls had your arse for your money, and found younger boys to dance with.
‘You should come back so you can be my doctor’ WTF?! I’m not even talking to you. I’m on my phone. See??? Ignoring you.
‘I hear it’s Ladies’ Night in Nairobi’. Yes, because that would be the only reason I would ever go out, to avoid paying entrance fees into a club. Is this you saying you can make a good sugar daddy?!
‘So what are you talking about now?’ You, and how you are completely incapable of reading signals. Go awaaaaaaaaaaaay.
‘Do you watch football? Kenyans like football. I like football.’ Ay caramba!!
And finally...as we downed our drinks and threatened to sprint out of the bar....
‘We’ll see you on Friday night. I hear it gets hectic, and that day my wife doesn’t mind what time I come home’.
I think I gave him a piteous look and for his sake wished he would realise how much of a fail he was. Unfortunately he didn’t. The very next day he returned, but we’d sat in an inaccessible area, so he did the next best thing and sent a waiter to ask us to join him. Yeah fucking right.
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