Dr. Dawg

My fantasy date with Antonia Zerbisias

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Veteran hatemonger Kathy Shaidle seems oddly interested in my private life. I wonder if she’s equipped with one of these rigs? (Heck, it’s not like it’s the state doing it.)

But in any case, I found myself trying to remember what could only have been a magical evening. I would have been nervous as a teenager, waiting for the magnificent Antonia to show up. Our dinner together had to have been at Scaramouche: only that exquisite locale would have been worthy of her. But then the self-doubt: as a proud feminist, A. would have insisted that we split the bill. Or maybe pay the whole thing. Had I chosen unwisely? Had I put her in a spot? Or did she select the restaurant, in which case I was home free?

No matter. I can’t remember a thing about the meal anyway. I must have been entranced. Enchanted. I would have listened to her, bashfully at first, and then tentatively joined in. We would have discussed Sicily, perhaps, and feminism more certainly. Our mutual pleasure in blogging would have been a topic, too; and our on-line and personal experiences with trolls, bigots and illiterates. A one-colour Venn diagram. And, of course, we’d have chatted about the Middle East.

Then we would have begun our long walk (“likes long walks”) across town, to one of Conrad Black’s many mansions. We would have enjoyed the sultry summer night, and made our way in companionable silence.

Why Conrad’s place? Dear reader, I have no idea. Perhaps we were up to no good. Partners in crime. Something, perhaps, to do with glass houses. Stones.

Damn, I hate this part of aging the most. So perfect an evening should have been etched in my neurons forever. I can see A. as I write this. Tantalizingly, I recall her warm voice, and a discussion about dogs. Where? Where did we have that?

A faint whiff of bliss. Disconnected images. All that remains. And the sadness of nostalgia for something I can’t quite bring to mind. Or is it just the Fall? Coloured leaves. A pang of winter in the air.

And now, plucking up my courage, making myself pitiably vulnerable:

Antonia, can we do it again sometime?

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This page contains a single entry by Dr. Dawg published on September 27, 2012 3:52 PM.

Motion 312: 1/3 of the House of Commons votes against reproductive rights was the previous entry in this blog.

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