Last night I went to Bemelmans Bar with a friend of mine. I hadn’t been there in months.
Around 1:30 am there were only five people left in the bar. My friend and I were sitting at a table; an older guy, a woman, and a younger man were sitting at the bar.
The woman and the younger man seemed to be engaged in a passionate discussion.
After the younger man got up, to go to the bathroom I suppose, the woman looked at me and asked: “Are you enjoying the show?” “Very much,” I answered. “Please continue.” She told me that she was 35 and that she was ready to hook up with someone after a few not very successful relationships. The younger man was her date for the night.
“Where did you meet him?” I asked.
“At a wine tasting, about ten days ago,” she said. “My friends warned me that he is gay.” “He is good looking,” the older guy mumbled. He looked at me and said: “You and me, we are ugly, but that guy over there is definitely good-looking.” The woman patted the older guy on the shoulder. She seemed overwhelmed by doubt.
“Why not hook up with somebody?” she asked.
At that point the older guy chimed in. “I’m Fat Bob,” he said to me. “And I want her to meet my daughter.” “Why do you want your daughter to meet this lovely woman?” I asked.
The expression on Fat Bob’s face suddenly changed and he shouted: “Don’t piss me off. I’m serious, don’t piss me off. You hear me, don’t piss me off.” Later, my friend explained to me that this was probably Fat Bob’s pick-up line. “I want you to meet my daughter.” It’s not a great pick-up line.
How about: I want you to meet my mother.
Or: I want you to meet my mistress.
And there is always: I want you to meet my hamsters.