4/12/2003

a delicate situation

Yesterday on my way back to the flat from lunch with Jack I ran into Zsuzsa and her Péter on their way out (they were going to the cinema, to see Chicago).

It was right in front of the building. It’s the first time I’ve met Péter. He’s bigger and taller and uglier than I thought. We were both very cool to one another.

Later Zsuzsa said he was surprised and maybe a little dismayed that I was handsome. But he could tell I was not Hungarian. That was interesting. I mean, why would he mention that? Good-looking bloke, but you can tell he’s not Hungarian. And? I mean, so what? I asked Zsuzsa what it was supposed to mean, and she said, 'how should I know?' And why should I ask?

I was just curious. I mean, I didn’t ask her what he thought of me, she volunteered it. But maybe it was a tit-for-tat type thing, because then, of course, she wanted to know what I thought of him.

I wanted to be delicate about it. I mean, what I really thought when they left was, ha ha, I’m better looking. And then, that they really didn’t look like they belonged together. I avoided words like ‘ugly,’ ‘disheveled,’ ‘hangdog.’ I said I thought he looked... And she filled in the blanks.

That was last night.

Then this morning on her way out, suddenly she stops putting her shoes on and looks at me, sort of accusingly.

'So you think he’s ugly.'

I said, I never said that, and I never did.

She said, 'yes, you said he’s ugly.'

I said, I never said it. I said, you said it.

She said, 'well, it’s true.'

I said, well, OK. But I still never said it.

I told her I thought if I saw them in action I might see how they fit together better than I did at first glance. But I don’t think they do. He’s a bum. He may be good for a few laughs now and again, and maybe he’s a got a big dick and probably he’s a decent shag (though he looks to be clumsy), but she’s not a teenager. This is the kind of guy you date when you’re seventeen. To piss off your parents. It’s not supposed to be serious. But it’s none of my business.

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