Short Story: Text ‘Film’ to 241
Orange Wednesday is my favourite day. I’ve never really subscribed to the whole ‘T.G.I.F’ thing as I’m allergic to acronyms (you can’t see me right now but I am coughing like mad and getting phlegm all over Siri!) and Saturday has always felt a bit too ‘working-class’ for me. I don’t mean that in an insulting way, it’s just not a time I feel I fit in. I tried attending Night Clubs like most of the public, but Night Clubs are a haven for dancing and my dancing has been described “intrusive” and “fuck off freak!”. The only dance-move I feel comfortable performing now is the ‘stand-in-the-corner-staring-at-my-phone-menu’ and that’s something I prefer to do at home. I appreciate that Night Clubs are a good place to meet women, I do, but the type of women I would like to meet are not the type to fraternise in the Night Clubs. I once saw a woman I thought was perfect in the Swindon ‘Liquid’; she had legs like a gazelle but just two of them (legs that is, not gazelles, and they were shaved. Legs like half a shaved gazelle, I suppose) and the firm, grey waist of mannequin. Her face looked like a puzzle assembled by someone with experience of completing at least thirty extremely difficult puzzles. I vividly remember approaching her to tell her she had beautiful eyes. “HELLO?” she said, “My tits are down here!”
I’ve actually had a bizarre relationship with the opposite sex, particularly when it comes to intercourse. My previous girlfriend’s favourite sexual position was ‘celibacy’ so my experience is limited and as such I’m a very sheltered individual in the bedroom. The last time a female approached my ‘groinal package’ (Sept 17th 1989) I had an allergic reaction my ‘fragile contents’ swelled to 170% its original size, at which point I panicked and ran out of the room shouting “I sent it recorded delivery and there’s no one home to sign!”.
Still, live and learn.
I’ve been single now for sixty-seven months. I don’t really mind though because I have frequent female companionship in my friend Sandrine. I met Sandrine in the Atlantic Ocean and I really can’t go into any more detail than that. She is quite large for a non-American woman (her breasts look like two half-inflated beach balls and her stomach looks like one fully-inflated super beach-ball) and she has a certificate in fortune-telling. I never understood why, but she would always ask to read my palm, so one day I wrote “Get a real job!” on the inside of my hand and when she saw it she thought it was so funny she didn’t return my calls for three weeks. Another incident I remember is when she complained at me that she had “so much work to do it’s not even funny” and I wondered just how much work she’d have to have for it to be hilarious. I think Sandrine is pretty but not in appearance, and as we’re both single, we made one of those pacts that friends make, that if neither of us are married by the time we’re forty, we’ll join eHarmony.
Anyway, I’d better go now as the movie starts in 3 hours and I’d like to iron my suit before I leave. Thanks for your text, Orange, and I hope this answers your question “Did you enjoy the film last week?”. Please could you send me this weeks code? I don’t have anyone to bring but I’ll give the surplus to a smartly-dressed passer-by.