FriDate the 13^th

October 23, 2011

FrenchSha

Patricia, our roommate, walked in like an angel – in disguise. Tall and slender. Dark hair. Tanned-skin. Not too picky, a go with the flow kind of girl – perfect for the role of a proxy.

“Hey guys.” She dropped her bag on her bed and sat beside Olly who just stared at her the whole time.

I joined them. I told her about the date leaving the fact that Bianca was supposed to be in her shoes and now she’s filling hers. She got very excited about Olly’s description of the mystery man. Very smart and kind. She got too excited to ask about his looks. Well, she dated a punk guitarist who smelled like a walking cigarette half a year ago. And just last month she went out with an asthmatic John Doe who laughed like an old guy panting for air. So maybe a few hours spent with a Newton dressed like the sewing machine blew up is just another bad date, and hoping, eventually it’ll be forgotten.

“All right. I’m in.” Trisha, as what we fondly call her, declared with an extreme enthusiasm.

A keen smile instinctively popped on our faces then as Olly and I looked at each other, silently linking the same thought. Ooooh. She had no clue of what mayhem she signed herself up into.