The Pazzo and Me

I met the Pazzo, or I should say the Pazzo met me a long time ago, last century even. Yes, it was that long ago! It was at a Charity Ball.

One of my work colleagues at the time was trying to swap careers from nursing to international aid. I don’t think she wanted to work as a nurse in another country, but rather work for the charity in Australia. Not that it matters, it’s still a great thing to do, help others, whose luck and fortunes are not as good as ours. My friend, another colleague, decided we should go, and she should bring all, yes all, her new boyfriend’s friends.

We bought the tickets, swapped our shifts, planned our outfits, choreographed the evening, always looking forward to a night out, a fancy night out. Another friend and I put on our dresses, did our makeup, fixed our hair. We were excited as we made our way to Shannon’s boyfriend’s flat and met a couple of his friends.

A couple of drinks and compliments later we headed to the Hilton Hotel, in the city and met the rest of Dave’s friends. They had their own pre-dinner drinks at the bar of the Hilton. There he was, a tall redheaded, red faced guy, already half drunk. Shannon made the introductions and my reserved nature kicked in, my antisocial side reared its head. Don’t sit next to the red head.

Lucky for him I was also slightly drunk, he had other plans! Suddenly, he was sitting next to me. Suddenly, we were talking to each other. I must say he was persistent, he really tried not to let me talk to anyone else. He was a really nice guy though. My initial shyness wore off. I was happy to talk him. I was happy to dance with him. I was happy to give him my number. The rest, as they say, is history.

Just one more small memory needs to be mentioned here. The only paper I could get to write my number on was quite small, maybe 1/4 the size of a playing card. He put it into the pocket of his jacket. When it was time for me to leave he asked for my number again. I told him he had it. He searched his suit pockets, went through them again. He came up empty. I reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paper and handed it to him (we were obviously already comfortable with each other). He looked at it. He turned it over, looked again, turned it over again. He looked at me and said, “There’s nothing on it!” I told him to turn it over and look again. He did. He still couldn’t see it. I took the paper, put it back in his pocket and said, “Look at it in the morning, my number is on it!!”

He called 2 days later!!

xxx Merri


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: