Now, personally, I thought that a sparkly young lady with nice kissy cheeks, expressive eyes, a wicked sense of humour, and no goofy food hang-ups or tattoos would work, but if a stent will do the trick, I'm game.
Intellectually, though, I still like my idea.
In this city, finding a woman who doesn't have food allergies either real or imagined, is okay with gluten, non-vegan, and doesn't say "eew that's icky" when faced with something outside of her culinary comfort zone (like eels, lamb, or freshly killed Bambi), and hasn't had meaningful inscriptions or butterflies put on parts of her body, is darn well impossible.
A coronary stent is much easier.
I am a practical man.
The stent, however, will not talk back at all. It cannot hold its own in a conversation. And it lacks a sense of humour. These are all important things, if only because a woman ("sparkly young lady") might, for instance, say "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening, this chapter holds my attention, dear".
And turn again to her book.
I am not as interesting as a book.
Which is something I regret.
On the other hand, the medical device will not utter a single word of protest when I light up a bowl of tobacco. Samuel Gawith's Saint James Flake, or Greg Pease's Stonehenge, or Rattray's Old Gowrie.
From which I deduce that stents and other medical devices may not have a sense of smell, or are fairly casual and accepting of odoriferous stimuli.
And I suppose that they can be comforting.
Within the fortnight I'll possibly find out.
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