Hello again, lovely readers of my mum’s blog. Usually, I write a guest post then wait for a few months until I have an idea so good, I feel that I can write about it relatively decently. My blog post on catcalling was posted a few days ago, and I was going to leave it at that, however, a certain mystery has plagued me since Sunday. And so I ask for your advice.
On Saturday night, the family and I went to a restaurant to celebrate the return of BW and his admission into McGill University. We were seated next to a wall with a large hole in the middle, through which the end of the restaurant could be seen. Through said hole, I was perfectly positioned to see the table next to the hole in the wall. A diagram may further demonstrate our position.
Now, I like to peoplewatch, and I throughly recommend that it is a hobby you take up. Not only is it very interesting, but I do it to further my ability to read body language, so as to further [Ed. I do not like split infinitives!] my chances of growing up to be one of those highly glamorous people who wear suits constantly, live off whisky [Ed: you need to think about your nutrition in the future!] and can tell the colour of a person’s bedroom ceiling by looking at their feet. So I looked at the people at the table through the wall and I still haven’t worked out what kind of relationship they had, and what kind of dinner they were having. As someone whose very few talents include being perceptive, this has bothered me ever since, so I turn to you dear reader, for your opinions to find the answer. I shall describe the situation as clearly as I can.
The man. Let’s call him… Tim. Tim is quite young, I’d say about late 20s to early 30s. He is quite handsome and his hair has clearly been styled to look smart. He wears a navy blazer and white shirt, his outfit has a nautical quality to it. He has clearly made an effort tonight. Much like his companion. The lady. Her name can be…err…Tiffany. She is an older woman, possibly mid-40s, however, much like her younger dining companion she has clearly made an effort. Her roots are dyed and she wears a sparkly black, semi-sheer top and matching skirt.
At first glance I think they must be on a date. But then, as I watch the man look around the room for a bit, I realise they have nothing to say to each other. So, a bad date with a young man and an older woman. I naturally assume that, as indicated by their attire, they had met somewhere, not being friends before advances were made, and liked the look of each other, but upon reflection they realise that they have nothing in common. Sad but it does happen, I hope they will remain friends.
At my table, the drinks arrive, and so my attention is turned to conversation and mineral water. But I’m troubled. There’s something not quite right about the bad date. I look again, and accidentally make eye contact with Tim. I smile awkwardly and take a sip of my water. Contrary to the smooth recovery I was hoping for, the bubbly liquid goes down the wrong pipe and I have a coughing fit.
From my peripheral vision, I can see Tim is having another go at conversation with Tiffany. At this point I realise what isn’t quite right with the scene. The posture of the lady. Tiffany, unlike the man is not sitting with a straight back, but slumped and slouched over her dessert. Hmmm. Has she just given up on the whole enterprise and the good posture has been deserted along with the prospect of another date? Possibly. I shrug and return to my lamb.
A while later, as one does, I glance about the room and something gold catches my eye. On the third finger of Tim’s left hand. He’s married. But they don’t look like a married couple. He is quite young for her. Maybe he’s attempting an affair, but upon meeting the lady in question, he now doesn’t think it will work out? I look to see if Tiffany is wearing a ring. Confirming that she is not Tim’s wife is the ring on her third finger. Silver. Not matching rings? Perhaps they’re an unhappy couple who, upon their wedding day, had cast aside tradition and bought different rings? But, again, their body language was distant but with a few signs of timid romantic gestures for example, hands unfolded but reaching across the table, flirty hair movement etc.etc.
I am now baffled. I just assume that it’s a business meeting, but then I conclude that this does not look like a business meal. [Ed. Also: it’s Saturday. In Beckenham] Then, dear reader, there is the fact that Tim looks over at a rather pretty brunette frequently and, as they sip their coffees, two rather scantily-clad (I judge not) ladies pass Tim and sit at the table next to him. He looks at them in a way that I doubt is to show admiration for the beading on their blouses. Interesting for a date.
Just when I begin to decide that they are two people, possibly a widower and a widow that have met on some morbid dating website for those with deceased other halves (explaining the wedding rings), on a bad date, something happens that blows my rather unlikely theory out of the water. They split the bill. They split the bloody bill. [Ed: Language!] Could they be friends? Not likely. Then what, I think, what the bloody hell is happening at that table? So, dear reader, I put it to you to try and explain this bizarre relationship. Personally, I’m stumped, and probably won’t be able to sleep properly until the mystery is solved.