I went to a bar last night with a friend. We sat quietly and drank a couple of glasses of wine. We had a chat and were not interrupted once and then we went home.
That doesn't work though does it? Todorov's narrative theory says a disequilibrium must be introduced to make these events into a conventional narrative. Finally the equilibrium must be restored.
Ok then. Let's jazz up this wanker.
I went to a bar and tried to drink a quiet glass of wine and talk to a female friend. Then a man came up and ruined it by making old school sexist comments. Then another man came up and ruined it a bit more by laughing at the first man. There was a short period where I wanted to boil the first man's head down into broth, but then I would have gone to jail. So I restored the equilibrium by going home and leaving all the men who needed to be horribly maimed in a bizarre hot soup accident, in the bar.
Sub-plot. Two younger women, who were very beautiful indeed, stood next to my table attempting to take a selfie of their gorgeousness. I leaned over and asked if they would like me to take it. One of them handed the phone over gratefully and they began to pose. They looked lovely. Then a man leaned in and tried to get in the shot by holding his head very close to the breasts of one of the women. I told him to fuck off. He looked shocked and retreated. Another man leaned over me and held a menu in front of the camera and jeered at the women. I stepped back accidentally and he withered away. Then "breast" man returned and plonked himself between the two women and parted them a little, grinning, whilst his "back-up" friend who had come to see what was happening leered at the women's breasts. I told them both to fuck right off. The women looked very uncomfortable when the men approached. But they carried on smiling and posing. I took the photo many times and not once did it not have a man imposing himself on their shot. They didn't want men in their camera roll. Just a nice picture of themselves in pretty dresses. Incidentally all the men involved had faces like bags of frogs, were at least 15 years older than the women and had questionable blood pressure and the beginning of early onset incontinence issues. The women deserved better quality of both men and behaviour. Women often do.
The "menu" man then decided he needed to apologise. He approached me by grabbing my arm and waving the menu to identify himself. He said he was sorry if he'd offended me. I said "You were a bit annoying but now that you have your hand on my arm I would like you to take it off and leave me alone."
Menu man didn't like this.
"No. You don't understand. I'm trying to apologise. I was just having a laugh."
I looked at his hand which he had now placed on my shoulder. I told him firmly to take his hands off me.
I removed his hand and turned back to my friend.
He put his hand back on my shoulder.
I turned around and told him very firmly to take his hands off me.
Predictably I was informed I had no sense of humour. I had no sense of humour at this point. I looked him in the face and told him so.
He said... "You're a right fucking witch aren't you?"
With no desire to add plot details that aren't true.... this actually happened ...... at that very moment, right at the side of him on my table, where he had placed it in order to put his hands on my shoulder, his pint glass shattered into tiny pieces. It actually exploded. Neither of us was touching it.
The man looked very shocked.
I laughed and informed him.... "Yes. I am a witch. Next time that will be your bollocks."
Sometimes.... life is a story that just keeps giving.
Happy Saturday women.