The Moon And Tuppence
I just cannot comprehend why my girlfriend always complains about me. It's not as though I don't try to be witty, charming and social in my behaviour.
The other day, when she suggested a candlelight dinner for two to set the mood, I was gung ho for it. Throughout the meal I entertained her with how nuclear powered electricity differed from hydroelectric plant generated power. She kept rolling her eyes heavenward. Being myopic, I admit I accidentally jabbed her hand with my fork mistaking it for a sausage, but there really was no reason to make an infernal row. Such things happen all the time.
Afterwards, sitting on the park bench she pointed to the full moon with dreamy eyes. Of course, I took the hint. I am not the halfwit some people think I am. I told her in lurid detail all about the Apollo expeditions and the moon landing in 1969. Neil Armstrong, I told her earnestly, was a role model for the young. I wouldn't swear to it, of course, but she seemed distrait and disinterested. Perhaps she'd had too much to drink. I told her as much.
Later, when I dropped her home she didn't even ask me inside. I'd kept the best part for the end. I had been raring to inform her about Quantum Mechanics and, if time permitted, the String Theory too. But she refused to entertain my invitation for a visit to the planetarium next day and told me to go boil an egg. A request which confounded me because I prefer my eggs poached.
I don't think I will ever understand girls.
wondering if t-shirt and torn jeans