The other night we were sitting at a cafe in an alley in Vieux Nice and I was telling the East London Massive the story of the Hunt for Bad Boys and Lumberjacks, but various colloquial and slang terms did not translate across the language barrier.
Six of us were from North America, or had lived there, and six were from elsewhere, and that meant that half the group dissolved in laughter as the other half stared in puzzlement.
I interpreted and brought everyone up to speed, including giving Ana’s version of what constitutes a Bad Boy: tall, dark, dirty, tattooed, emotionally unavailable…. and literate.
Dino asked if Bukowski or Henry Miller would make the cut for the literacy exam but I said that Ana would find both banal.
Someone suggested that we should take Josh on a Hunt for a Wife (because I suspect he believes in True Love). I offered to be the director of the endeavor but it was decided that an assistant would be better; I volunteered Ana’s services without asking her permission.
Hunting for a spouse is quite a different proposition than finding some random boy who knows how to cut down trees.
I never get involved in the serious matchmaking that might go astray and leave me forever stranded at unpleasant dinner parties.
Peter said that we should try to do a Bad Boy hunt in London but I shrugged and said that it would be impossible to replicate.
Dino said I can be emotionally unavailable!
I replied That is pretty obvious.
Then I remembered that I was not in fact on the west coast with my own people, but rather in a European cafe with sensitive scientists.
I need to do a better job tracking which country I’m in at any given moment.
