“I thought we were planning on watching the DVD?”
“Well, you can come over too.”
Because the snow is seldom, if ever, shoveled from the streets of Bishkek, it is quickly compressed into ice until it melts, which could be two days or two months later.
“Fuck you, Doug. Fuck you, fuck you.”
“I’ll reschedule with her.”
“Fuck you. The only loyalty you have is to your dick.”
I picked up the pace, went into the grocery, grabbed a few things, and as I was striding out, hoping to avoid him, he caught up with me.
“Seamus, I’ve rescheduled …”
“No Doug, you’ve been talking about this for months and this is not the first time you’ve done this shit to me.” Central Asians are not vocally demonstrative, at least by my standards, and my voice captured the attention of several people outside the store. “But it is the last time. You have no loyalty to your friends.”
The incident, however, was not a surprise. I never plan on doing anything with him until it actually happens. Until then, it’s a crap shoot whether he will follow through. O he’s flakey, but that’s not the problem. You see, he has one clear and overriding priority: the relentless pursuit of getting, as he likes to say, “boinked.” It trumps every other obligation, responsibility or promise. And for the chance of even a whiff of it, just a whiff of it, he would sell his first-born son to the Devil, without batting an eyelash. Change Christmas Eve plans that day at 4 p.m.? Not a problem. If the driving impulse of my life is that base, shoot me. Please.