So you thought I was cynical? Meet J. A walking purveyor of eternal doom, he refuses to even celebrate his birthday, because “what’s the point?” When J turned 30, (you know; that milestone birthday, that coming of age, that prime excuse to milk the attention and gifts your contemporaries are forced to lavish on you) he sent out a half-hearted email at 4 o’clock on Friday afternoon, displaying a tragic lack of joy and hope, expressing the sentiment that “I suppose you all have better things to do, but if you find yourselves at a loose end tomorrow night, I’m sort of having a bit of a party”. By 6pm the following evening, he had still not started preparing for said party.
But bless him. I would absolutely recommend him as my first choice of the male species to be seated next to at a dinner party. Or rather, my only choice, seeing as most of my other male friends have fallen victim to the curse of couplehood.
In all seriousness, though, I would write J a glowing reference any day. He is fun, funny, witty, intelligent, articulate, has a social conscience and just the right amount of mischief to spice up the conversation at social gatherings attended by the less worldly of our acquaintances. He has counselled me through some milestone periods of my life (the eve of my 29th birthday, the time I thought I was in love with my personal trainer, and most recently, being on 24 hour call to analyse the behaviour of my latest love object). J is generally very supportive, although he once threatened to call the police on me, on the grounds of me being a crazed, obsessive stalker. He was over-reacting, of course, but that’s ok. I just put it down to his limited understanding of women. And I am more than happy to teach him all about women, if he will explain to me the eternal mystery of the male species…
But bless him. I would absolutely recommend him as my first choice of the male species to be seated next to at a dinner party. Or rather, my only choice, seeing as most of my other male friends have fallen victim to the curse of couplehood.
In all seriousness, though, I would write J a glowing reference any day. He is fun, funny, witty, intelligent, articulate, has a social conscience and just the right amount of mischief to spice up the conversation at social gatherings attended by the less worldly of our acquaintances. He has counselled me through some milestone periods of my life (the eve of my 29th birthday, the time I thought I was in love with my personal trainer, and most recently, being on 24 hour call to analyse the behaviour of my latest love object). J is generally very supportive, although he once threatened to call the police on me, on the grounds of me being a crazed, obsessive stalker. He was over-reacting, of course, but that’s ok. I just put it down to his limited understanding of women. And I am more than happy to teach him all about women, if he will explain to me the eternal mystery of the male species…
No comments:
Post a Comment