The other night I was chatting up my barman when a couple approached me.
Violet, can we go somewhere quiet to talk.
I was kinda enjoying the courtyard with the music and the moon but they both looked serious and I thought perhaps something was wrong.
They didn’t waste any time.
We’d like to get to know you, they explained. We’re polyamorous. Basically, we’re looking for someone else to love.
Jesus Christ, readers, apart from the fact that I don’t know the difference between polyamory, polygamy and polyfilla, what is going on at the moment.
I cannot get away from threesomes.
I looked at them. Got up, signalled for another scotch, sat down again.
I’m curious, I asked. Why me? What are you looking for? And yeah, again, why me?
They thought I might be lonely.
There’s just so much love in the world Violet, and we want to share it. Spread it around.
I tried not to roll my eyes or fall asleep while they told me about their lives and what they wanted.
They grow their own veggies, smoke pot,tie dye their clothes, oppose nuclear weapons, stand up for the environment, do yoga, meditate, rescue orphaned animals, and children, play the guitar and sometimes, take a little LSD.
More love would be good.
Oh my god, I thought, I am so not a hippie and also how would they ever even remember to include me in their busy hippie schedule.
I would not fit in. I don’t recycle, or do drugs, and I also like to love one person at a time.
I excused myself.
Thanks but no thanks, I said, and suggested they maybe start a communal vegetable garden instead of having a threesome.
It would be a better way to share the love.
I left them under their haze of smoke and hurried off.
The DJ was playing David Bowie’s Modern Love. And I wanted to dance.
On my own.