Needless to say, I never did holiday in Umhlanga with Gary; with my invitation unceremoniously but unsurprisingly rescinded. I didn’t receive so much as an sms to notify me of the demise of our friendship either. I was just shut out in the cold without a word.
As for Mr Savage Garden – I never saw him again either after he crossed the threshold of his brother’s doorway; other than in passing many years later where we pretended not to know each other after our eyes initially locked with a look of what ifs and disappointment.
Oh but to have been a fly on the wall that morning!
OMG Gary, I have just met the most amazing woman ever!
That’s nothing Boet, wait til you check out the chick I’m banging!
And then the moment of absolute silence when reality dawns on them.
I can laugh about it now; such a typical comedy of errors as is fitting my love life. However at the time I was shocked and devastated; especially as, by the complicity of their silence, I was awarded the Scarlet Letter.
~ X ~
After a quick huddle for a team photo, with Nina’s business and batting partner standing far too close for comfort behind me and then making a crude comment about his cellphone in his pocket [ew]; we took over the closest bench to the bar for the commencement of the meeting.
First order of business, tequila’s all around. When Nina stood at the bar and ordered eight gold tequila’s, I screamed across the table that it was seven shots and one coke. And then realising the company I was in, I edited my order to -a Cola.
After shots were shod, my batting dude called the meeting to order. And at twice the size of the next largest player, he had our attention. After much discussion, it was decided to tell The Captain and his girlfriend that we had actually won the game. The team was still peeved that they dropped us at the last minute and
lying stating that we had won a game without him was the greatest revenge.
And so without further ado, the team photo was plastered on Facebook with a caption about us being the winning team. No skin off my nose, they aren’t friends of mine and so I won’t be dragged into the ensuing drama’s.
Next on the agenda was next year’s league. Nina and her partner have offered to sponsor the team; they will be paying the full league fees for all eight players as well as providing a branded uniform with our team name and individual names [apparently you get bonus points for a team uniform].
Currently each player pays their share for the game [R50.00 odd] and we all wear black tracksuit pants and black T-shirts [however, this doesn't quality as a uniform]. Oh except for me. Nina pays my fees as she knows my financial status, and she is the kind provider of my too tight tracksuit pants.
Nina then inquired as who was interested in joining the team for next year, with the main stipulation being reliability and not sporting ability. I was thrilled to hear that as the girl who filled in last night made me look like an amateur. Oh wait, I am an amateur! But I was very concerned that my place was about to be usurped.
To cut a long story with lots of shots short; Nina was the first girl signed, and I was the second! Glass-footed chickie has been relegated to reserve unless last night’s reserve declines the third position. As for the girls’ fourth and all the guys positions, I didn’t stick around to find out.
With each drink [theirs, not mine] the pub was getting louder and darker and seemingly dirtier and I had had my fill of social interaction. I told Nina that I was leaving and she said that it must be awful sitting in a bar with a bunch of drunk people when I no longer drank. To which I was interrogated by my team members as to why I stopped drinking.
WTF? Why are boozers so interested in why a person doesn’t drink? Why do they assume it to be unusual? I was afraid that Nina was going to mention March’s incident and with most of them knowing Fabian, I certainly didn’t want that event to become a round table discussion.
And so to shut them all up I told them that I was a recovering alcoholic. And yes, that worked. Not a single question raised after that statement because apparently being an alcoholic is more acceptable than simply being a non-drinker. And hey, maybe I really am an alcoholic.
Anyway, during this conversation, a player from Gary’s team; who had been sitting on the opposite end of the pub; came over to our table and sat down next to me. Whilst Nina didn’t introduce us, she leaned across to tell me how she’s known him since they were little kids and blah blah blah. Thanks, but I’m not interested in hearing the concise bio on unknown guy.
There was space on either side of Nina on her side of the table so I don’t know why he didn’t sit there in order to chat to her. Not that he was. He was just sitting there, and was speaking to me about him. I felt very uncomfortable having a strange man sitting so close to me and I had an unshakable fear that he was going to talk to me.
I wasn’t wrong. As he turned to me and opened his mouth about to utter something I will never know; I shot up, grabbed my jacket off the table and announced my immediate departure. Nina congratulated me on surviving an hour [game not included] in a social environment and said she’d get me back on the horse yet.
As long as the horse doesn’t involve alcohol, cigarettes, drugs and dingy dark dodgy places; that’s cool with me. I’m not quite ready to gallop, but I wouldn’t mind a gentle trot.
~ ♦ ~