This Fish Needs A Bicycle

the fireds

"Can I get you anything else?"

"A job?"

We double over laughing as the confused waitress wanders away.

"Oooh! Wait! How about some dignity?"
"Look next to the salt."

It carries on this way for a good part of the evening, the twelve of us around a long table filled with cheap Mexican food and booze. The Fireds are animated. They've been drinking since 3pm. I feel a little out of place until I've had a drink, and then we're hugging and laughing and trash-talking.

It gets somber for a second. My boss wipes strawberry daquiri from her mouth and says, "It's really going to suck for you there isn't it?"

"Yes!" I say. "It's all about me! Forget that you got laid off. I'm the one who's really suffering!"

"I'm not kidding. What about the Business Week thing?"

"I know. I'm not going to say I didn't think about that. But what really concerns me is who's going to hold my purse when I go shopping at lunch."

Work Boyfriend leans across the table, mock-drunk. "Still me!" he slurs. "Only, in my bathrobe. Are you drunk? NO! But it's only 9AM, there's still time!"

Plenty of time, they all chime in. And then they make up new professions. New ambitions. Work Boyfriend will drive an ice cream truck. That way, he and I are sure never to lose touch. Gay Boyfriend will model thong underwear. And my boss?

"I want to be a sex therapist."

Cheers to that, someone says. We go back to our drinks. I lean my head into Gay Boyfriend and stay that way for a while. He knows how sorry I am; there's no point in saying it. And I'm terrible at sincere, heart-felt moments.

We're friends, he says. We'll always be friends, stupid monkey job or no.

I hug him and get up to leave. Good, I say. But you do realize I'm totally going to have to find someone else to sexually harass.

And what I really mean to say is, "It's going to be so lonely without you."

Posted by This Fish at February 23, 2004 11:22 PM