I’m at the bowling alley, in my observer’s seat high above the blacklit lanes. It’s busy right now, but one foursome has caught my eye. They are two couples—a short blonde who has without a doubt earned the title hottie is with one of those tall, dark types, while her best friend the willowy brunette is with a reasonably tall, slightly pear-shaped guy.
Blondie knows how to bowl. She works with the ball the whole way down the lane. It is pleasant to watch and I suspect she knows that. When she gets back to the table, either celebrating success or mourning failure, she is welcomed by her boyfriend and much smooching and ass-grabbing ensues. That’s not unusual in these parts, and I thought little of it until I observed, high in my crow’s nest, the behavior of the other pair.
When willowy brunette comes back from the line, she will gently touch her man’s shoulders as she slips by. When he comes back from his adventure with ball and pin, he’ll put his hand on hers where it rests on the table. They are simple acts, unconscious, not meant to prove anything, secure in the simple joy of togetherness. So if you ask me which of the two are in love, the groping, smooching, rubbing-against-each-other couple, or the couple that is simply together because there’s no other way to be, you know what I’ll answer.
The all-over-each-other couple seem to be trying to convince the world, and thereby each other, that they love each other. Not good. Doesn’t work that way.
The brief-touch-in-passing couple isn’t trying to prove anything. They just are.
You know johnny Rio and Rotten Rita were askin about you.
All those bowery bums and fag hags were saying not J-Dog.
J to the tripple m o G?
I guess some of us can’t believe it to be true.
But for real tho G, next time I throw both them bitches down the lane. You feel me? 2 times
Ah, Phyliss, how i miss those nights in the back garden, sipping Mexican Beer and gazing at the stars, waiting for the barbecue to be ready…
I’m back, too, after a quiet week floating on a houseboat with no phone, no e-mail, and no TV. We had a nice, relaxing time, but when we got home, my 10 year old son hugged his Playstation.
Did somebody mention Eels? I know we’d all appreciate another heapin’ helpin’.
Jer, ya might want to tell your new bowler friends where they can go to get their balls polished.
Nothing to do with Bowling, but the squirrels have attacked and the story is over on Beer ‘n Trucks.
Click the home page and scrool down to squirrels
After a fantastically awesome summer in the woods without email, TV, or properly flushing toilets I have returned to find myself lost and confused (not to mention homeless and unemployed.)Nevertheless, I have found a computer on which to rejoin the world of MR&HBI. I know I have been missed, and that you and your followers have been anxiously awaiting my return. Wait no longer. My appologies for any anxiety I have caused.
p.s. give me the “simple joy of togetherness” over “proving your love to the world” any day. Overt PDA is used by lonely people to try and make themselves feel wanted and everyone else feel alone.
Hey lew! Welcome back. You were missed indeed.
Let’s see, lew …
No email, TV, or properly flushing toilets … lost, confused, homeless and unemployed …
Well, at least you’re not in New Orleans.
I was actually on my way to New Orleans with my friends as the storm hit. We would have gone too because we didn’t know that there was a hurricane (my friends don’t like american radio and we hadn’t been anywhere with a tv in days.)
As we were passing thru NC a Welsh friend of mine called (he was in Philly) and told us not to go any further south to avoid certain death. So we headed west instead and that is how I ended up staying back in Little Rock.
That is what I get for being uninformed.
Uninformed is relative.
Selectively clueless has a lot to be said about it as a lifestyle.