Not having an internal monologue
For some 18 months, I’d been trying to get a triple date lined up with Bryson and his wife, The Frenchman and his wife, and me and the Firecracker.
Bryson and the Frenchman were friends first, with the Frenchman being a white belt in BJJ when Bryson was a purple belt.
But, because life gets in the way, Bryson’s now a brown belt (4th level) but the Frenchman’s a black belt (5th level) and I’m still – laughably after over 20 years on-and-off – a blue (2nd level).
Like I said, life gets in the way.
Only found out through social media that they knew each other and, after we got together last time around, we’d been trying to do it again with no luck.
This past week, we’d finally arranged something – or so we thought.
Bryson: Hey guys I did not read the calendar right. We are [away next week after all]. We can do this Thursday or Friday.
Me: I’m putting this on your list.
Frenchman: Argh…that’s July 4th…sorry got a plan already.
Me: Is tomorrow out?
Bryson: We can do tomorrow.
Frenchman: Tomorrow 6:30-7pm would be the earliest.
Me: Wait, that works for us as well. 7PM tomorrow?
Frenchman: Oh, wow it’s happening.
So, after months of trying to plan something, we just randomly decided to meet up around the Frenchman’s pad within 24 hours.
The Firecracker suggested Bohemian Spirit as she knows I like Slavic food and the other fellas were game so off we went.
The Firecracker and I got there first.
Me: Oh man, this place is super cute.
Her: I figured you’d want to be able to take pics.
Me: (later, to waitress) Hey, do the chairs on the wall/ceiling mean something?
Waitress: (laughing) It means my boss was bored during COVID.
After a while, everyone else showed up.
While the Firecracker had met the Frenchman’s wife, Tess, before, and briefly met Bryson’s wife, Nikki, the two wives hadn’t met each other yet.
But, since everyone’s so chill, we all fell into a really easy conversation pretty quickly.
The food was killer to boot.
Me: Did you know that about 30% – or something – of people don’t have an internal monologue?
Frenchman: Wait, what does that mean? You have conversations with yourselves?
Firecracker: What? You don’t?
Me: You don’t talk to yourself?!
Nikki: I don’t talk to myself either.
Me: Whoa, is that 30%?
Firecracker: Your math is off.
Me: Asians are not known for their math skills.
Turns out that the Frenchman – and possibly Nikki but she was sitting farther from me – don’t have internal monologues.
Evidently, he thinks in images and concepts but doesn’t actually have a conversation with himself.
This was a pretty hot-button topic for us to end out the night but that’s more their story than mine, so I’ll stop here.
The Firecracker and I were stupid full, and she suggested that we walk home from the Upper East Side to the Upper West Side.
Her: It’s just like a mile. We can do that easy.
Me: Fine, but you’ll have to protect me if someone attacks us.
Can’t remember the last time that I walked across the park at night.
It was nice.
Actually, the whole evening was nice.
I’d do it again. Although, hopefully, earlier than 18 months.
Location: at another bar, limiting myself to a single burger
Mood: hot
Music: Will you let me go? بِسْمِ ٱللَّٰهِ! (Spotify)
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