Look, It's Ethan Hawke

I pointed. "Look, it's Ethan Hawke."
"Who?"
"Ethan Hawke. The actor."
Blank look.
"You know, he was in those movies where he walked around with that girl."
"Which girl?"
"I can't remember her name. Anyway, it's him."
"Where?"
"He's gone now."
Blank look.
"I could tell you that he's still here," I said.
"Who?"
"Ethan Hawke. You don't recognise him, so I could tell you that he's still here. You won't know."
Blank look.
"That's him over there..."

Je T'Aime, Moi Non Plus

For Me, Denial Is Just A Bloody River In Africa

I think it was her smile. It was a great smile, natural, but perhaps just a little too big.
Or maybe it was her dress, you now, too revealing, too flash, all body hugging and that. Although the body it hugged I had no problem with, none at all.
We'd bumped into each other at the bar and started talking. It was easy talk, real easy, not hard work at all.
We talked for a while. She had blue eyes that I had difficulty not staring into. She flashed them at me one last time as she was leaving towards the end, when she looked kind of sad.
I didn't ask her for a number or anything. I'm thinking it was because of her smile, just a little too big. It certainly wasn't the fact that she had three young kids because, you know, that wouldn't deter me. No, I wouldn't be put off by that, not at all. So it must have been the smile. Or the dress. One of the two, anyway.

We Have to Stop Meeting Like This

We're sitting in a meeting and I'm watching their lips move.
They talk and nod and frown. It's important stuff.
One person leans forward and jabs the air with his pen. I look at his hair, it's a funny cut, I wonder if it's DIY.
Another disagrees with him. His hair is OK.
We need to stay focused someone says. There's a stain on his shirt, mayo I'm thinking, or maybe mustard.
The one with the funny hair goes on for a bit. I doodle in my notebook, I sketch a man being crushed by an anvil.
We finish up. Plans are made for a follow-up meeting next week. Some people will go home later and check their BlackBerries.
I go back to my desk, stare at my monitor. Thinking about it, it looked more like mustard.

Date

Yawn.
She apologised. She said it had been a long week.
It was Friday night and she was my date. She was French with long dark hair and a sexy laugh. We were on dessert and I was telling her about my time abroad. But I wasn’t banging on about it; in fact, I thought I was being both interesting and entertaining.
I let it pass. It happens. People get tired.
"How about you?" I asked. "Have you lived abroad much?" (The fact that she was currently living abroad had escaped me.)
She started to answer then yawned again. She apologised again.
"No problem," I said, "I have that effect on women."
She smiled. I’m not sure if she got it. I wasn’t sure if it was a gag or not, I had visions of her using the table cloth for a bedsheet.
When the third yawn came I asked for the bill.
Looking for some positives, I may not have been the man of her dreams but I certainly was the man of her sleep.

Me Love You Long Time

So I'm in Amsterdam on a business trip and I'm looking for dinner.
I'm following a canal. The street is narrow and cobbled but cyclists shoot past in both directions unflustered. I cross a bridge and look down at the water, ducks are curled up on boat covers, settling in for the night.
The canal runs in a loop towards the centre and the crowds start to pick up. Bar lights glow out of obscure corners.
Then the windows with red neon strips above them appear. The first one has its curtains closed. The second is open. I look, she looks back. She's in her underwear, standing proud, staring out at the street. She looks about twenty. She motions with her finger for me to come in. She starts to open the door. I feel awkward. I'm fully clothed and she's half naked and I feel awkward. I turn away. A group of young men behind me start to leer and cheer at her. My business day has ended, hers is just beginning.
I need an espresso, I'll just pop into that coffeeshop...

Life is Fatal

So I went to a walk-in clinic. I have a niggling pain I wanted checked out.
In short, I’ll live. In long, I’ll die one day, but not from this.
While I was there I saw a sign on the door. Mental health group meeting cancelled due to illness it said. But that’s the point, I thought, it should say Mental health group meeting on due to illness. Then I smiled to myself, pleased at my gag.
What a retard…

Next Stop: Hypocrisy... Mind The Gap

We were talking about dating, about how hard it is to meet people.
She said she hadn't expected to be where she is now, to be single at her age, it just wasn't a scenario that she had pictured.
She told me that she had tried internet dating too. She said she had been on some weird dates. She said she could write a book about it, all the stories, and that maybe she would.
I couldn't believe it, imagine the breach of trust, the invasion of privacy, writing about someone behind their back like that.
Who could do such a thing? Who?