The Pseudo-Chronicles of Mark Huntley

The Longest Lunch - 9/3/04

Friday, September 3, 2004

I woke up this morning with the sense that something terrible was going to happen. Didn't know when, or how, but the feeling was strong. It might have come from a dream that I forgot when I woke up. In any case, the feeling hasn't entirely left me all day.

If I were the superstitious type, I'd be worried. There's been nothing worthy of dreading today— the weather's been agreeable, though still a bit hot, and work wasn't too demanding. Maybe now that I’ve broken off with Lucy, my dread just doesn’t know where to go.

My co-worker friend Dale and I decided to have lunch down at McCormick and Schmick. It's a seafood place downtown with the kind of good-old-boy atmosphere that Dale really gets a kick out of. Not that he's much of a good old boy, himself: his skin color would have kept him out of their networks back in the heyday of cronyism. And he's more into manga (Japanese comics) than cigars and the 'Skins. He is a big boy, however, and big boys can go where they please.

Lunch turned into long lunch, as has increasingly been the case whenever I head out for a bite with Dale. After the third round of beers arrived, conversation turned to Lucy and the break-up. I hadn't even meant to bring it up. It just happened. 

I blabbed on about how I wasn't sure I'd made the right decision, how maybe I should have let things play out a little more, how I wanted to call her... Too late, I stopped myself and said, "Sorry. We can talk about something else."

Dale stroked his chin, probably forgetting that his beard wasn't there anymore. His girlfriend made him shave it off. "Don't worry about it, padre. You needed to get that off your chest."

"Ah," I said, "but I didn't need to go on for ten minutes like an asshole."

"Naw, I guess not," Dale agreed.

"You did tell me from the start that she was bad news."

“I did. Emphatically.” 

Dale is the only person at the Divide who knows about my whole thing with Lucy. I told him about her a week or so after we'd begun dating... or hanging out... or whatever you do with a married woman. He’d just grinned and told me a tale of his own—a tale of the forbidden!—from seven years or so ago. He'd been 21, an undergrad at Hunter College in NYC. She'd been 36, the wife of his favorite professor. Yes... there was a reason his GPA dipped to 1.72 that term.

“But I never expected you to listen,” Dale said.

I took a swig of my beer. “You saw this coming, then.”

"Not quite," Dale admitted. "I had pictured it ending with a gunshot wound to ya face."

"Oh."

"But here you are!” he said. “Face intact. Now you can maybe take a different approach to dating for next time.”

“You mean, weed out the married ones first? Cool idea!”

“I mean, don’t rely on Divide investigations for all your prospects,” he said. “You ever try finding a woman on the computer? That’s like the new thing. Could be just the right fit for a guy like you.”

“A guy like me, huh,” I said. “A four-eyed nerd with no people skills?”

“Naw, man,” Dale said, but he was smiling. “Listen, my brother just banged this girl he met on Friendster.”

“I thought Friendster was for friends! No thank you. I’m not in the mood for any—”

“Okay, how about this?” he said, leaning in. "Here’s a magic ticket. Come out with me to a party tonight. My neighbor's throwing it... Prava? You know, the hot girl I've mentioned once or twice?" Or ten, or twelve times.

I shook my head. "Thanks, but I don't know if high adventure in Arlington is the right thing for me right now."

"Feh," Dale said. He folded his arms. "It's the only thing for you right now. What better way to kick off Labor Day weekend? You know you'll just be moping the rest of it... you'll have plenty of time for that after tonight."

Insulting, but pretty accurate. The plans I had lined up for the weekend at that point were in fact moping, interspersed with sulking and maybe a little listlessness on the side. Suddenly that didn’t sound so enticing. Still, I hesitated. "I don't know..."

"There'll be beer."

"You're trying to turn me into an alcoholic."

"And doing pretty damn well so far. Come on. Prava's inviting all her cute friends from... uh... wherever she works."

I snickered. "I can see you two are close."

"Whatever. Remember: beer."

"All right," I said. "I'll try to stop by."

So that's where I'll be heading in about an hour or so. I definitely won't be going there to pick up some random Prava-friend. I'm just figuring on some alcohol and good times with my pal, his girlfriend (I’m assuming she’ll be there), and a whole lot of strangers. And if it turns out to suck, well, then, at least I'll know why I felt like something bad is going to happen.

In any case, it's nice to be reminded that I have a friend or two out there who try to pep me up when I'm down. I'll report tomorrow, if there's anything to report.

posted by Mark Huntley @ 7:28 PM

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