The story my friend told me

 

 

The most interesting stories are really never told, maybe because they raise questions like: is it true he/she didn’t?  Can one really walk away from that?

I feel that the fact that there will be immense doubts in the actual occurrence of the event(s) is why such stories never get out.

However, it isn’t that the stories are not told, they are only told to few people who might never tell a third party, even when they do, the origin of the story is excluded, the real cast never mentioned, like we say at work, this flow has too many open ends………………..

I will tell a story that a friend told me, I will abide by the guy code, a few revisions here and there, but the essence of reality will be duly preserved.

So my friend told me………………………………………..The Genesis, he was out of town for work, he stayed in this hotel with amazing whisky collection, he noticed that at the bar, after all, my friend is the most disciplined alcoholic, does he drink? Answer: Like there is a message in the bottle.

So he settled in, took care of business, mails got replied, an agreement draft was checked. He did his work and decided to go check out ‘man’s throat lotion’-fine whiskies.

He got to the bar, the barman was missing, then he checked the time, it was 12.35am. (Cut, my friend has sleeping troubles) sometimes, time doesn’t matter.

Being a persistent young man, he checked behind the bar and there the barman was, sleeping, he tapped his back so rapidly, the dude thought the hotel was getting robbed; he woke up with his hands raised up. My friend apologised, tipped him fast before his brain could form a sentence, he didn’t want to hear, sorry sir, BUT the bar is closed.

My friend asked for a very expensive whisky (cant mention the name, its competition to my own whisky brands), the guy said that they have but that they don’t sell tots (3cl measures), so he settled for another, a fine blended whisky  made from mixing a single malt whisky with selected blends, the consistency is honestly amazing. I have had this brand on a few occasions.

After the third glass, my friend decided that it was time to watch a bit of TV at bar, so he turned to face the box and there she was, my friend said she was the most beautiful middle aged woman that he has ever faced. She was somewhere in the range 36-40, he thought. Amazing body.

If my friend says amazing body, please take it as VERY amazing body.

The first scan was done, left hand, the wedding ring spot, bam!!, none. It was as if my friend just realised how late it was, he felt so sleepy, not literal sleep but his mind had thought about a million things that makes a man’s mind tired.

So this fine female, asked my friend what he was drinking. Cut, Never start a conversation with my friend, he is an amazing ‘conversationist’, although calm and very cool looking, he talks so well to the ladies.

So the conversation is opened, she is impressed by his use of analogies, his truthful response to issues, his open admittance of some wrong decisions, they even talked about Miley Cyrus.

Miley Cyrus?????? Anyways……………

She, the fine female is a 35 year old investment banker, recently separated from her husband.

My friend knew when to sit back and listen, in her eyes he saw the pains, the pains of a woman tired of fighting a war she never thought would ever be hers.

She spoke amazingly about her ‘husband’, married for 5years, absence of kids has finally taken a toll, he wanted one badly, as he wanted to try with another woman. Cut, to a successful woman, nothing brings down her achievement more than being told maybe some other woman will be better in a place it seems she has failed.

My friend saw the tears.

Now, if you were not my friend, the amazing’ conversationist’, you would have held her hand right? Told her not to cry, isn’t it?

No, He didn’t. He knew she won’t cry out loud, successful women are like men, they have huge egos. She won’t want anyone to hear the sound of her pain. My friend knew this, He allowed her.

The beautiful female cried, softly, but for a short while.

If you drink whisky, leaving a serve on ice for a long while, robs your nose of the pleasure of the best aroma, hands down, the very best. Sometimes, I feel it like a flood, washing away the top soil, the earth and its smell, eroded by free flow of water.

So He, my friend, the amazing ‘conversationist’ takes the glass to his mouth to down the content, then he dropped it without a word. The beautiful female asked why?

My friend, held her hands and walked her to the parking, he answered her question, then he told her stories no one can help but laugh at.

He talked and she laughed all through.

Now it’s 3.30am. She took my friend’s hand and said thank you.

They walked back to their floor, same floor coincidentally, her room was first.

She opened the door, and left it open, went in some 3 feet from my friend, eyes expecting, THE AMAZING BODY was being offered.

My dear friend walks in, kissed her on the lips but briefly and told her it’s going to be okay. He pulled the dresser chair and made the speech. (Cut, I mean, beautiful responses should be called speeches)

‘If you were not going through this, you won’t offer me your body for any reason, not just me but any man. You really love this man. While you cried, I saw that you cried because you miss him above the situation, because you stared at the space his ring used to be.

He continued, I think you guys will make up, when you do; I want you to look him in the eyes and tell him that you waited for him because you knew he will be back. You love him because he loves you back intensely. After all, you are an Investment Banker, emotions are investments’

Good speech right? I know!!! I was proud of him also.

She stood up, hugged him so tightly, my friend thought he was being attacked.

She says thank you, stranger. I wish you the best in life. We won’t exchange contacts so that I never get tempted to contact you. You are a fine man!

Nothing pleases my friend more than to have the adjective ‘FINE’ used for him, not because he isn’t, but that word should have been patented for only amazing whiskies.

So my friend appreciated that a woman compared his attitude to the beauty and ‘perfection in craft’ of a good whisky.

My friend can be stupid, right?

But I told him that, just like fine whisky, he has aged and matured. Now he is mellow.

If I can liken my friend to a whisky bottle; he will be 40year old blend.

Simply Dignified!!