At a Friend's House

You know how sometimes there's a situation that just makes everyone damn uncomfortable?

You know how sometimes that situation isn't a 'situation', so much as it is a 'person'?

Have you ever noticed that usually the uncomfortable 'situation' is brought about by a 'person' that the majority of the group has just met?

Yeah, me neither.

Anyway, on Friday we went to Terri's house. She was being gorgeous and divine and knows we were having trouble 'buying' enough food to last us between 'paychecks'. She cooked us some wonderful food on sticks, and potatoes, and these mushroom things that were stuffed with cheese and made me swoon with desire/fullfillment. And also garlic bread. I loves me some garlic bread.

We were out on the patio enjoying our meal, when her daughter's friend came to visit. He also brought his dad. Apparently 'dad' and Terri have been hanging out every now and then, and they engage in conversations about how great it is to have someone to drink wine with and talk to. It's a mutually beneficial relationship. Unfortunately, this man was a little strange.

One problem that arose immediately was that we all realized he was the type of guy (I say guy because he was, in fact, male. Also, there seem to be more males of this type than females. Or it could be that I can't remember any females offhand, but really there are scores of them out there on the perimeters of my brain that I can't stand to such a level that I choose to forget about them when they're not in the immediate vicinity) who always knows something about what you're talking about. If you decide to talk about your lovely trip to Bali last year, he took that same trip! And got the special 'You're so great and know so many people' tours while he was there! And stayed at that hotel just down the street from where you stayed! The one that cost $1000 more/night than what you paid! And he stayed a week longer than you did! My, what a coincidence!

Are you catching what I'm throwin', Internet? He's one of those.

Then we started discussing age difference and how it pertains to dating. Terri, Jamie and I had all been victims of the 'Really old guys only want to date teenagers' syndrome that seems to be going around. Remember when it happened to me, Internet? That wasn't very fun. There was also a period of my life wherein every single guy who asked me out, regardless of race, creed, age, or penis size, was married. WHAT IS UP WITH THAT? Anywhoo, we were discussing this disturbing turn of events, and Mr I'm So Special was telling us that it was all a load of bullocks. He himself is aproximately fifty, and he's never had the desire to date someone younger, he prefers experience, maturity, etc etc etc. And the entire time, he was hitting on Jamie. Jamie, who is at least 20 years his junior. She was a bit uncomfortable.

And then, THEN, when Bruce is talking about his brother Sean, and wishing we could afford to go to St Louis to see him, the man pulls out his wallet as though we were asking for money, even though Bruce totally wasn't, and he didn't even have his beggar clothes on with his cap sitting on the table playing his guitar. I couldn't believe it! And then, what am I supposed to do? I can't sit and argue with Mr I May Not Know Everything, But I Know More Than You. And You., he's slurring all over the table as it is, and I can't even get a word in edgewise with which to demand he take his money back. And it gets worse, Internet.

He procedes to bring out his teenager, and makes him fork over his money. It was humiliating. The poor kid kept looking at Bruce and I, who were shaking our heads so violently I'm sure we knocked a few (more) screws loose, and then at his dad, who kept saying, "Come on now, boy, fork it over! Don't worry, he wouldn't do it if he didn't want to. Give them your money, boy!", and really making me very very squirmy and uncomfortable. So I took the money, Internet. I took it, and I'm not ashamed. I didn't want to spend the rest of the night arguing about it.

And then the next day, we drove to Terri's and gave it back. Well, what I mean is, we gave it to her, to give to him, so we don't have to argue about it. HA! Take that Mr Bow Down To My Conceited Generosity!

And then we painted her daughter's room hot pink. That was fun, and my feet still have hot pink soles. Good times.