September 01, 2004
Undercover with Republican Singles, Part Three
Start from the start with Part One and Part Two.
Inevitably I found myself seated window-side above the sparkling city with one of these Republiquettes, whispering in intimate tones. T---- confided that she'd been on a blind date, and that it hadn't turned out well, but that that was for the better. The guy was a jerk anyway. As the glow of the beer settled, conversation drifted to my literary accomplishments. When she'd not heard of my books, I asked what her interests were.
Dear reader, her response may raise doubts about my authorial credibility, but I assure you that I don't mean to build cariacatures—but simply to report the truth. T----- pondered my question, and then with good-hearted earnestness replied:
"The stockmarket. Ways of earning income without working."
I waited for the punchline. I considerd. T----- smiled sweetly. Then I explained patiently that the these could not be suitably classified as "interests" unless she would claim that she found reading the business section of the paper to be interesting, at which point she admitted that such reading was "boring."
"So what are you interests, anyway?"
"Continuous ecstasy. Fulfillment of all my desires. The usual."
"Oh."
"I'm a hedonist," I declared.
"You mean, like: Marquis de Sade?"
I let the slip pass, and instead popped the most important question: "Do you think you'd ever go out with a liberal?"
"Sure, why not?" she said. "As long as he wasn't some starving artist type."
"What do you know about starving artists?"
"This is New York—they're everywhere. They're here tonight picking their dinner off the snack platter."
"Well, what's wrong with that?"
"It's fine, unless you ever want to raise a family, or own a house, or retire."
"I can do that whenever I want."
"Living paycheck to paycheck? You must be kidding. Do you have any investments?"
"No."
"It's no wonder you can't get a girlfriend."
"I got more woman than I know what to do with. Let me tell you about the time I was sailing off the Azores—"
"Who are you going to vote for, anyway?"
She'd called me out. And suddenly I had to choose. I had to choose between the penthouse floating above the avenues or the unwashed protestors down below yelling at cops. I had to join the club or sneak out the back door. Somehow I'd lost the upper hand with T----, somehow this had become a referendum on my own manhood. I had to regain my advantage. . .
Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion later tonight!
Posted by Travis LaFrance at September 1, 2004 08:05 PM