THE HOLDING PATTERN

While discussing tobacco, Mr. Chow asked, given that I speak Cantonese and Mandarin, and am able to read Chinese, why I didn't have a Chinese girlfriend? Let's overlook for the time being that I am only half-assedly able to speak Cantonese, less than that in Mandarin, and reading the newspaper is sometimes a crapshoot because a significant percentage of the words are beyond me sofar.

Let's instead focus on the fact that I'm a grouchy pissant of a certain age, and not on anybody rational's "must be caught" list. Nor quite the epitome of salonfähigkeit.

Also, I tend to be distrustful of women my age, as the chances of them being just as bad are enormous. JR got married again about eight or nine years ago to an anticommunist harridan, and is presently contemplating divorce. He's already retired, these are supposed to be his golden years, not his tarnished tinfoil twilight times. Sofar we only have his version of it, but seeing as his wife has had to put up with him all this time she must be an exceptionally tolerant and forbearing woman, and probably qualifies for sainthood.
In any case, she's been through much.

Like many old crotchets, neither one of them is a prize.

I'm not a prize either. Pipesmoking "middle aged" Dutch American male, kind of stubborn and opinionated. Any woman who wasn't like me, AND did not think in English would likely end up having nightmares and be asked at some point by her kinfolk why on earth she stepped into a pool of muddy water. I'd wonder too. Did I already mention that I'm no prize?

So yeah. Not on the look-out. Not chasing any skirt. Not thinking of asking anybody out on a date. Not in the market for diamond rings or bunches of long-stemmed roses. Not even saying "hey why don't we go have some milk tea, I know a bakery" to anyone.


And I'm imperfectly content with this situation.


But I do have two pipes in my coat pocket just in case. Plus pipecleaners and tobacco. Because, you know, the day I'm not prepared is the day I'll regret not being prepared.



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