That got my attention, too, when I was on the patio of the Oyster Bar, having just ordered dinner and a glass of wine. 9-Year Old Son was sitting across from me.
By now you have guessed this post is not safe for work. There will be colorful language. You will wonder what it is with Shark Girl and devil-may-care women with low-budget highlights and even lower-budget senses of decorum. You will think something is wrong with Shark Girl, who always resorts to virtual jiu jitsu, settling her frustrations on a fantasy mat in her head. But, I swear to you, every word of this story is true. I did not just make this up to increase SEO.
|More than one animal on your feet at a time = Red Flag.|
Across from her was a man of similar age, awestruck of her (or his good fortune). He was speaking more quietly. He seemed sheepish about her loud forthrightness, but he wasn't about to screw this up. (You'd have to be a eunuch to screw this one up.)
I motioned with my eyes toward my little boy sitting three feet away from her--the universal mother sign for, "Hey, there's a kid over here, tone it down." Most humans, in my experience, even the most hardened folk, respect that sign. A crooked smile crossed the woman's lips and her eyes turned back to her partner and his dumb gaze. Perhaps my son hadn't heard her. So she continued:
". . . we'll fuck for three hours straight. We won't get much sleep."
The man said something in a normal diner's tone, so I couldn't hear it. She responded, "Oh, I'll find you a brunch spot . . . . It will be breakfast in bed."
I started to feel a little, but not too, bad for her dining companion.
The woman looked over again to see my reaction. I imagined her sizing me up before she made her next comment:
Square, middle-aged mother, frumpy in a hoodie and flip flops, hair and face unmade. Prudish, concerned about the word 'fuck' reaching her precious son's ears. This will really offend her!
And then she added: "Like what could she say to her father? I'm 16 and I'm going to fuck?"
I mulled over politely asking the woman to keep her softcore porn to herself. I played scenarios in my head like jiu jitsu matches, and strangely, every scenario ended in a jiu jitsu match (with me winning, of course). I think I was fantasizing more about taking her down than the man across from her was!
The woman's bawdy banter continued:
"Oh, look!" She took out her phone. "I've got a follower in Finland!" She exclaimed. She went on to read the Finlandian's post. That I couldn't hear. "I'm kind of a big deal on the Internet, and it's not even porn! I'm a lifestyle blogger!"
I looked over at 9-year old. He was staring sadly into the restaurant."How are you doing honey?" I asked him.
"Okay . . . can we move inside?"
"Are you cold?" I was still hoping he hadn't heard this woman's cries for attention, but that was an impossibility.
His lips pursed together into a frown and he rolled his eyes in Pool Fuck Lady's direction. "Oh," I said. "Is she bothering you?"
I caught the host's attention and asked if we could move inside.
"I'll find you a table,"he said.
Our food came out, just as the inside table was available. We trucked our plates and utensils away.
Inside, 9 year old was much more animated. Alas, he also was more vigilant. It became harder to nick his French fries, which were quite delicious.
A few minutes later I noticed that another group near Pool Fuck Lady had moved inside, too. Apparently, she was a bigger deal on the Internet than she was at the Oyster Bar!