Armidale Love Story

Armidale had been good to me so far. I was waiting for a steak and the octogenarian tinder experiment next to me was about to kick off. The geriatric sex fiends were sauced up on booze and had been ushered in from the bar. They were so drunk they could barely talk and seemed demented, like nursing home escapees on the run from something more lucid. She talked at him in between chews of the worst fucking pasta she’d ever eaten. Her words. He just sat there staring through her and for a moment I thought he had died. “I’m really glad we met,” she said and he didn’t say a goddamn word. I wondered whether they’d fuck and tried to imagine the dry-like-Autumn sex that they’d have and then realised he’d have no chance of getting hard because he was hanging on by a thread. None of this aroused me and for the first time in a while I thought that everything was going to be ok.

A family sat nearby and the father was trying to impress his distracted wife by talking shit about steaks to his sons. “One day you’ll understand the significance of a decent piece of meat,” he said. She’d made a mistake. She knew it. We all knew it. Those eggs had been worthy of better jizz. A waiter smashed one of the kids in the head with a serving tray. Accidentally. Armidale, let’s never be apart. The father said something to the wife and she didn’t even hear it. Her mind was probably wrapped around the cock of some alpha who had widowed her long before this chump had even had a chance. “SHE’S NOT INTO YOU,” said the old woman who had decided to double as an oracle.

“No one asked you,” he said.

“YOU CANT FUCK RIGHT,” said the old woman and a waitress rushed over to apologise to the father. His wife had noticed none of this. She was too busy staring into the screen of her phone. “YOU’RE A FAGGOT!!” said the old woman.

“SHUT UP YOU DRUNK OLD BITCH!” he said.

“MAKE ME!” she said and then it kind of died out because she noticed the old guy was swaying in his seat. The father’s focus had also been shifted because his wife had finally looked up from her phone to tell him to shut the fuck up. With all his sex credits blown on an outburst at an old woman, he was starting from zero again. He was out of the game.

The old guy dropped his drink and then vomited into his bowl of spaghetti. The one the old woman had called the worst fucking pasta she’d ever eaten. Big call. Huge call. Now the old guy was face down in it with his vomit and there was beer all over the floor. “OH MY GOD LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO THIS MAN!” said the old woman. Like all good women she took her man’s side. She stood up to assess the situation further but had trouble staying on her feet because she was just as smashed as her date. She looked like an overfilled leather handbag that someone had stuffed with pubes that were spilling out the top and this lasted a minute before she sat back down. A waitress rushed over. “Do we need an ambulance?” said the waitress.

“YOU’VE KILLED HIM!” said the old woman. It was chaos. I thought about pretending to be a doctor, but the old woman threw a look at me that was so horny it actually scared my penis into retreat. That had never happened before. She got up again and immediately collapsed over the table and the whole thing went sideways. Armidale, I love you. So there they were on the floor and the best laid plans of horny eighty-somethings, having begun in the bar were now bleeding out on the carpet of a restaurant somewhere in New England. Figuratively.

The ambulance took them both away on stretchers. The old guy seemed alive but hadn’t said anything and didn’t respond to any of the questions thrown at him by the paramedics. The old woman on the other hand called everyone in the restaurant a murderer, but reserved the best for the chef. She called him a cunt. We applauded her as she was wheeled off into the night where they would put her into the van. She responded with a series of finger gestures that were nothing short of inspirational and marked the end of an excellent show. My steak came soon after. “How about those old folks?” I said to the waitress.

“Yeah, they do that at least once a month,” she said.

“Oh, I thought this was their first date,” I said.

“No, they’re married,” she said and it was the best goddamn steak I had ever had.

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