Day 5: Happy Hour

I'm sitting at a trendy bar/pub, waiting for Michelle. We have a post-workday debrief session (i.e. liquid dinner).

She walks in, all shiny hair and fabulous pale skin.

Michelle: 'I say it's a 5: 3: 1 today'

When we're out, we like to estimate the ratio of genders (it's Male: Female: Androgynous). Today's bar is packed with the trendy crowd and its followers.
Michelle, drinking straight scotch, is pouting.

Michelle: ‘I waited and waited. Cursed at my phone. Tried to hypnotize it. It never rang’.

Me: 'Was I supposed to call you? Did I miss your call? Is my phone on silent??'

Michelle: 'Relax, muppet. I'm talking about the guy I'm seeing. It was all happening, and then the telecommunications ceased.'

She drapes herself into the chair facing me.

Michelle: ‘I just don’t understaaaaaaaand, I thought we meshed’.

Me: ‘Who? Who were you meshing with? Was it that guy, John?’

Michelle’s love life is hard to follow. I sometimes have to take notes and draw diagrams to fully keep track of it.

Michelle: ‘John??’. Michelle's eyes are dripping with distain. ‘Peuh! John was out of the picture the minute he told me he was looking at purchasing a condo. In the burb's'.
Fair enough. Burbans are a species we can't understand. Why mow your lawn and sit for 3 hours in traffic when you can purchase a downtown loft?

Me: ‘Say no more'. I pause to take a sip of my bubbly. I know drinking scotch has so much more 'gueule', but I love prosecco/cava/champagne. I'm girly and I embrace it.

Me: ‘So… If it's not John, who is the phone-shy guy?’

Michelle: ‘Remember when we went to the lecture on the future of high-rises last week? Remember the guest lecturer that did the introduction to the main presenter?’

Me: Oh. My. God. You DIDN'T!