Thursday, July 20, 2006

A Miss called Rhonda

Sad news reaches me of a colleague who has entered that dangerous age in the mid-forties when ones testicles launch their final desperate offensive for total control of all higher brain functions, with catastrophic results.

This unhappy soul, long divorced, has in recent weeks acquired a girlfriend who he introduces to friends as “call her Rhonda”, because no-one can pronounce her real name. She is apparently from points far-eastern and has limited English beyond “me love you long time”.

Communication difficulties, both linguistic and cultural, are the inevitable result. Sure enough, when the girl buys herself some leather chaps, he immediately goes out and buys a $30000 bike, which he cannot even ride.

He has known her for three weeks.

Now, I’m used to guys of a certain age suddenly turning up to work in Mustangs, but this seems to me to be exploring new and previously unsuspected dimensions of mid-life criticality. Insofar as rational thought dictated any part of this sequence of events, it has failed our man in this case, as Rhonda refuses point blank to go near the bike, let alone mount it. For all we know, the chaps were just an invitation to ride her.

Obviously there were mixed signals at work here. Faults on both sides, and all that. She could learn a little English, or he some Cambodian. But even so – a bike? I fear I will soon be press-ganged into another bloody intervention…

*sigh* Why are men so stupid?


A big honkin’ bike, yesterday. Note to guys: generally speaking, this is a poor substitute for a princess-cut diamond tennis bracelet.

11 comments:

Desargues said...

He'd have achieved maximum effect with only $29.99 or so, at Abercrombie & Fitch. They used to sell a T-shirt that said on the front, "Spare A Horse - Ride A Cowboy."

Ivan the Terrible said...

Well, yes, Des - but they're all gay...

R. Sherman said...

Has he ever ridden a motorcycle, before? That is the question. If so, then allow him his indulgence.

If not, go to his house and kick is ass/arse, and tell him he's an idiot.

Reminds me of the time when, as best man, I told the groom, in the church to flee for his life.

He didn't listen to me and it only cost him half of the nice inheritance his grandfather had left him.

Cheers.

Ivan the Terrible said...

They never listen, do they? Mind you, I didn't either, and I don't regret it now. Or should that be "yet"?

And no, he's never ridden a bike in his life. Won't need me to kick his butt - chances are the bike'll do that for him...

Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

Speaking as a problemchildbride, I feel uniquely qualified to reflect here on the male mid-life crisis, and being, as I am, an actual living mid-life crisis, myself.

I poo-pooed well-meant suggestions that I was the Problem Husband's mid-life whatsit and wasn't really worried until he got the sportscar. And quit his job. And then wanted to move to California.

Still, 11 years, 2 children and a cat later, we are still together and happy. It helps the PH hadn't been married before though.

To your friend I would say, keep your chap(s) zipped and wear some protection on your head until you're sure the feeling won't pass. Although that could be advice for a man of any age, really.

Ivan the Terrible said...

Just on his head, Sam?

Anonymous said...

He'd be better off with fixin' the Mustang. Here's my 2 cents, freeze some of your "little guys", keep 'em safe. Get a vasectomy, now you have total control of your reproduction. Well, make sure that the vasectomy works first. After that, if the woman's worth her salt, you can decide on having kids with her. Oh yeah, prenup dudes, get the best divorce lawyer that you can afford to help you with it, make sure it's bulletproof. After that, it's all you, man.

Just because you're getting older, don't mean that ya gotta get dumber.

Icepick the Mad!

Anonymous said...

Learn some K'mai (not Cambodian).

1. moto thom la'or nah
2. strai K'mai la'or nah

hait-ey mein panyaha tay ?


Lord Playboy
www.khmer440.com

Aunty Marianne said...

You're kidding, right?

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