Palfrey arranged for a party for the Friar tonight. His birthday is in a few days. The party was at Green Margarita, a truly vile Mexican restaurant that Friar (who has vile taste in restaurants) absolutely adores. All the old familiar faces showed up --- T-Bone and his wife, Anacreon and his wife, Muffin (who is now pregnant) and her husband, Gunner, Friar's boss, some other old friends, and the Mayor. I'd had no idea that Muffin was even in town, which shows how close we are, right?
Only for the Friar would I attend such a gathering. I know these people are my friends, and most of them wish me well and no who was one there dislikes me... But even if they don't judge me, I judge myself. What can I tell these poeple, my old friends, about myself that doesn't resound with defeatism and rightly invite condign opprobrium? It's a plain fact that at this stage in my life I'm a failure in every aspect, from social to professional. Everyone around me is making enormous money, into their fifth year of marriage, expecting a child or the proud parents of one or two. This is the normal stage to be in at my age. How can I sit with these people as if I were one of their peers?
Only for the Friar. No one else.
After the dinner, most of us went to the Hangout, where we did the usual stuff. I stayed out until 3:00 a.m.
Waitress T got a text message from her boyfriend and laughed in geniune appreciation. "That's so sweet," she told me. "I had asked him if he were going to the concert, and he just replied, 'You bet your fine ass I am.'" She smiled. She meant her praise, too.
Has the manly art of sweet-talking a woman really become that retarded and pathetic? "You bet your fine ass" is now considered to be a silver-tongued boyfriend's sweet compliment, worthy of comment?
What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action, how like an angel! In apprehension, how like a god!