Hat Trick

Look, don’t get excited. You think your problems are special? You must be the fifth you I’ve seen tonight, brother. I’m glad I can’t smell this place.

Is Jimmy still serving you?

He should think that over.

Hey, take it easy. I’m not broke, and I’d like to keep it that way, if it’s all the same to you.

I don’t know.

What?

I just told you: I don’t know.

He said he’d be right back.

So, what’s your story? Oh, right. It’s that brunette over there, isn’t it?

No, I think she noticed you.

That’s why she’s over there. Talking to me isn’t helping. Do you know how many times I’ve had this conversation with primates like you, kid?

My friend assured me that he would be right back. No problem.

You’ve got a problem though, right?

I’ve seen my friend do this before. Trust me, I can help you. No, really. I’m bored.

What?

No, I didn’t say I’ve seen him do it well, but paying attention to mistakes is interesting. You know what I mean; didn’t I see you in my friend’s history class?

Sure, I was with him.

Yeah, I suppose I help him keep it together (or hide it, when it’s in bad shape).

Anyway, as far as I can see, most of the problem comes from trying to come up with something. She’s not interested in being impressed. She wants to be recognized. You’ve been looking at her all night.

What have you actually seen?

My friend thinks he’s pretty sharp.

Yeah, sure he is. And who’s always left with the bill at the end of the night?

You’re looking at it, kid. I can’t get away from it. It’s in my nature.

Anyway, you should really stop wasting your time with me and go talk to that attractive brunette. I’ve seen these things play out a million times. Mostly from above, but perspectives can change.

You know, just yesterday my friend—where is he, anyway?—brought a young lady home from this very festival of hedonistic abandon. And we’re back tonight. He’s wily and unpredictable, you know?

See, the trouble was that when we got back to my friend’s embarrassing apartment, he threw me casually onto the sofa. I think this was theatrical: it was supposed to confirm his confident, free virility, or something. Primates like display and ritual as part their mating behavior, as you know. You might want to throw me at the feet of that attractive brunette over there; or you could cut to the chase and drive another male from the bar while hooting and damaging the premises.

Anyway, there I was, sitting on the couch while my friend, who has a bad memory, loud biology, a short attention span and little imagination (a young primate, in other words) eventually persuades the object of his affections to do dubious deeds on the sofa, where I am quietly pretending I don’t know what’s on the horizon.

But neither of them pays the slightest attention to me. In fact, it is as if I have ceased to exist--just winked out of being without a trace. So, after some of what passes for conversation around here, onto the sofa they awkwardly make their way, and then they do what unsupervised young primates are inclined to do.

On top of me.

Again, the fact that I am hard of smelling, as one of my friend’s favorite characters once said, proved to be a blessing.

My point is, if he can do it, you can do it, buddy. Don’t pretend. Say things that you would say in private. Complimentary things. Don’t rush; don’t make a weird spectacle of yourself, and don’t just sidle up to her and start mumbling and staring at your phone. You are young primates, but you do have interesting minds, if some of what I’ve heard over the years is true. After all, you made me, and I’m dark and wise.

There is something it is like for you to be yourselves. Not too common where I come from, which is why I’ll talk to almost anyone.

Case in point, buddy. You’re it at the moment.

Congratulations. Thanks to this conversation, unlike most of the dopes in this dive, you’ve made a black friend.

What?

Oh, that’s nothing. Just make it clear to her that most of this life is nonsense and you get it, too. Don’t point it out to her like she needs to learn something and you’re really clever. We both know that’s not true.

The idea is to let her know that you’re both in on the joke. There’s comfort in that, kid. You know you’re not alone against the stupidity and madness of it all. See what I mean?

Are you sure you need another? I’ve never had one, and I’m fine.

Lost, sure, but everything eventually ends up exactly where it belongs. Whenever I’ve been lost before, I’ve been found. In fact, I’ve ended up in a place with that contradiction for a name more than once. You should see some of the sorry singles who will never see a mate again in those joints. Makes me glad I was made to go it alone.

Not you primates, though. You're like socks or gloves. Once you’re really lost, you’re set to be found. She’s lost over there, and you’re lost over here. Find her, buddy. Let her find you.

What? Are you sure? No, you go ahead. You’re not putting me on. I like that about you, kid. You’re honest. Just don't rush it. When you've seen things from above for a while, you know what's coming and how fast. She's in on it, kid. Go together. Sock it to her, and let her return the favor.

What?

Are you trying to show me that you're not too smart, kid?

Fine, fine--but you definitely did not need another. That was a charming double-entendre about socks, kid. I was not even on my way to talking about fun you can have after losing your pants.

Again, don't rush it. Part of the excitement of taking things off comes from keeping them on for a while. I should know.

No, I’ll be fine. If my friend doesn’t come back, somebody will find me.

If it goes well, come tell me.

Go on kid.

No. It looks fine. Pull up your drawers. Don’t even think about your damn phone. If my friend gave me half the attention he gives his fancy phone, I’d be riding high instead of putting pep in your step, son.

You’re alright. You and she are facing the same, stinking dive of a world.

Join forces with her.

I’m off to you, kid.