the truth about all those fish in the sea

random encounters. you never know what you're going to get, do you?

sometimes it's nothing to write blog about. but sometimes, "is this really happening?" conversations do happen, punctuated by "did you really just say that"? moments, strangely suspended in time.

there's also the quite common "why am i still here?" sensation. and the, "god i hope the people at the next table can't hear you" jolt of shame.

have you ever had the peculiar "i might actually be scared of you" encounter? or its angrier cousin, the rare but memorable "if i went to the bathroom and disappeared, would you hunt me down?"

and how about the difficult to explain: "i can't sit closer to you because there is hair coming out of your ears." or the slightly awkward "i can actually see myself reflected in your forehead..."

of course, there are many more.

tonight, i had the remarkable experience of having all of these fascinating anthropological circumstances converge upon me all at once, in the the form of an australian-italian, car-dealing, lexus-driving, chain-wearing, head-polishing, name-dropping, paranoia-hurling, otherwise nice guy, whose name shall remain undisclosed, lest my blog be serendipitously discovered and unleash the road rage-ish, Rocky I-through-VI-obsessed, sweet-smiling psycho dwelling just beneath his skin.

here are some excerpts from our conversation:

***
anonymous: i was in new york, right. and my brother, he knows this bloke, told me to give him a call. i call and i call. call his mobile, call his phone. i even called him at work, mate. so finally i get through to this guy, and i say "Vinnie!? Vinnie!? Is that you Vinnie?" And this guy goes, "Nah, Vinnie's away." So i ask him, "What's he do, mate? My brother said he was a film producer." And this guy goes, "Nah." He says Vinnie runs the financial district, it's downtown somewhere.
me: Vinnie runs the financial district?
anonymous: yeah, he's the boss . he runs it.
me: mhm.
anonymous: yeah, yeah. I called him for a month, you know. guy never called me back. what an asshole.

***
anon: yeah, there's this club in London. great place, mate. i tried to get in, but they wouldn't let me. said there was a 7-year waiting list. s-e-v-e-n-y-e-e-e-r-s, mate.
me: seven years? do you think they meant it literally?
anon: yeah, bouncer said seven years. and i couldn't wait that long, y'know. cuz i was only there for a couple weeks. but i heard madonna gets a table there, and snoop dog. but they just stay at their tables, my mate told me. like, they don't even socialize, so i'm just not interested."

***
anon: i've never really had a relationship.
me: why's that?
anon: i can't afford one.
me: you drive a lexus sport. i think you can afford a relationship.
anon: nah, mate. these girls are crazy.
me: silent
anon: i had this one girl. had her for six-months. she was just 23, you know. she was a pretty girl. i thought i could mould her, you know, turn her into a woman.
me: so what happened?
anon: she was an idiot. she was a stupid bitch.
me: ...
anon: she just had no respect, you know. no respect for me. i fixed up her jeep, right. did a nice job, too. and then i said to'ah, "so what are you going to do with the car now?," and she said "ohh, i think i'll go to some dealers and see what they'll give me for it." and i thought WHAT? i mean what kind of a woman doesn't ask her boyfriend's advice on cars, ya'know? ask his opinion on something like that? i think there was a trust issue there. i think it was a sign.
me: yeah, maybe.
anon: it was like realizing i've got bad property, you know. like when you've got bad property, and you've just got to sell it. sell it fast and cheap.
me: (blink. body quite still.)
anon: or actually, it's more like a racing horse. once a racing horse breaks its leg, you have to put it down. you just have to put-that-thing-doowwwn. and do it fast. this is the same thing, man. same thing.

***
anon: so, i have this web-site, right. how much would it cost for you to write it?
me: to write your web site?
anon: yeah
me: it would vary based on...
anon: (interrupting) nah, nah, just you know, whaddya think it would be? like, whaddya think?
me: um... what did your other guy quote you?
anon: oh, he's great value, mate. it's a great price.
me: yeah, so maybe stick with him. i'm not so cheap.
anon: not cheap? yeah, but okay, you know me now! we're like, you know. we're sitting here. so give me a good price...
me: yeah, my good price is not cheap.
anon: (beaming widely, pointing at me with his finger): now, don't be jewish. dooon't beeee jeeeewwwish....
me: it's not jewish. it's business.
anon: (continues beaming widely, while slowly shaking his finger around my nose)