I met the couple hosting the party out at a restaurant one night. It was the same set of couples, plus one extra woman. Three times in the evening, this stupid woman made a comment about how it was too bad Goatee was seeing someone, because he was supposed to keep her from being the single girl at the party. She said this as she ran her hand up his arm. Slag.
I tried to keep myself hidden. Yeah, not the bravest of moves, but I had a better time tucked away than I would have otherwise. The couple throwing the dinner party have two little girls (four and six years old), and I made myself the unofficial babysitter. I played with the kids and helped get them to bed. I read them a story and sat with them while they fell asleep. I kept telling the parents, ‘Oh, I’m happy to help. You go on. You’ve got a party on. I love kids.’
Eventually, the kids were asleep, and we all had our meal. It was time for after drinks and chat. There weren’t enough chairs, so Goatee pulled me onto his lap. It felt kind of weird sitting on his lap. I sat there like a child on his knee, while everyone drank coffees and liquors talking about SNP promises to plough the roads, Labour promises to give everyone a snow shovel, and Coalition promises to implement a shovel tax.
I was so happy when guests started yawning, and it was time to leave. Goatee and I went back to his. For an old guy, he really has a sexual appetite. I thought as men got older they slowed down. Also, I’ve begun to notice that he’s not into beds; my back and knees are killing me today.