How is She with Your Friends?

I was in line at Walgreen's on Saturday, getting some last-minute supplies shortly before Christy was due to arrive, when my cell phone rang. It was Len. I answered.

"David, I forget...which one of us fucked a girl we met at seven minute dating last night..."

Without turning around, I could feel the eyes of the women in line behind me shooting daggers into the back of my head.

"This girl was a slut. She had already been drinking before she got there. I fucked her....how many times."

"Len, I gotta call you back."

The funniest things I've overheard in cell phone conversations have been said by the person on the other end of the line.

So, Christy arrived for the weekend. When I told her about my plans for our evening, a get together at Millennium Park with some friends for a free concert performed by the Lyric Opera, she didn't sound overjoyed.

"We can get together with your friends, but....we have so little time together. Can we cut out early?"

I understand the need for alone time, but I always love meeting the friends of women I'm dating. It helps me understand them a little bit better, to see them in their "environment". I silently hoped the evening would go well.

We had drinks at the park cafe and went to the lawn where Urban Melissa, Guatemala, a musician friend of Urban Melissa's boyfriend and a girl he was trying to hit on had already staked out a place with a blanket. The lawn was packed---Chicago does love its opera.

Introductions were made and Urban Melissa inquired about my morning run. Eight miles. She asked if I had been hung over from the previous night with Zibi and Ania. I admitted that I had been, yes.

"David is the town drunk," she said to Christy. Christy visibly stiffened.

Just then, my phone rang. It was ZB.

"David, Gil's coming back in town. We gotta get together. He was telling me, you're a total gigolo. Is your girl there yet?"

"Yes," shouted Christy, who was sitting next to me.

"We'll get together. I'll call you later."

I wondered if Christy had heard the gigolo comment.

"Isn't Chicago beautiful?" offered Guatemala, "best goddamn city in the country." At this point, Christy visibly withdrew from the social intercourse.

The concert was fantastic---sort of an all-star selection of opera music. After the concert, we ambled over to the Crown Fountains and I made a comment about the faces that are electronically displayed on each of the fountains: would it be possible to hack the system and maybe display genitalia, then faces, and people could match up the faces with the genitals?

"It would be too easy with you," said Guatemala, "too many women in Chicago have seen your penis, David. Yours could be matched up pretty quickly."

Ouch.

"Yup. Most recognized penis in Chicago."

After we got home, Christy was in tears. She was upset at the lack of respect she was shown. She thought Urban Melissa's joke about my being the town drunk was out of place---her soon-to-be-ex-husband has struggled with alohol abuse. She was unhappy that no one had asked her the usual how-are-you questions: where are you from, etc.

"And, David, why do your friends have to swear so much? I'm not a prude, but I hate to hear goddamn and Jesus Christ used as swear words."

Alas, my Chicago friends are not really Christy's type of people. Urban Melissa is an irreverent, cheeky bi-girl with bohemian sensibilities. Christy is a stay at home republican mom whose divorce is still pending but who hasn't worked in years. Christy shut herself down pretty early in the evening and I thought the only valid reason she had to complain was over Guatemala's joke. I wondered: did Guatemala get pissed off at Christy's unsociable nature, perceiving it as snobbery? Or, did Guatemala just forget that Christy was there with me? I'll have to ask her about it the next time I see her.

At any rate, Christy left on Sunday morning. Sunday night, I got together with Marla for pub grub, drinks and an overnighter. She's leaving for Greece in two days. I couldn't help thinking how Marla would get along with Urban Melissa and Guatema---she'd fit right in. And if Guatemala had made a joke about my promiscuity, Marla would have laughed and come up with a snappy rejoinder.