The Two Vaguely Older Women
December 8, 2006
My freshman year of college I got to talking with a young lady from one of my art classes and it turned out we were both from the same state. She kindly offered me a ride home for Thanksgiving, which I gladly accepted. She had an older brother who lived in the metro area, so we somehow got a ride to his house, and then he did all the driving. Incidentally, that guy was at the time the funniest person I had ever met in my life. I can’t remember all the reasons why now–this was years ago and the best comedy is situational–but I dimly recall a terrible Frank Sinatra impression that left me unable to catch my breath for 30 miles in New Jersey. I’ve since met someone I thought was even funnier. Anyways. He had a friend–it was never clear to me if it was just friends, or more, or maybe just a cousin? But there was another woman, older than me, also along for the car ride, and the only thing I really remember about her was that we were talking about how we swear so much without even thinking about it, and she said “I have the filthiest fucking mouth.” I can’t remember what she looked like, so when I picture her I’m actually picturing a woman whose office I shared during my first job after college. I had an internship working for the state (the system of governance based on arbitrary notions of property ownership, not the short-lived sketch show on MTV) and she was a very nice person, but totally over-friendly with the interns. Like, wanting to hang out on weekends, trying to trade phone numbers so we could keep in touch after the summer. One of the gang if you will. Which we were not having. I mean no offense. You can be the nicest person on earth, but no older woman gets to hang out with boys in their early twenties unless she is super, super hot, which she wasn’t. Heart of gold, though.