At the post-game sushi table, someone mentions the Year of the Dragon, which leads to Hey, what are you?
“I am monkey,” says the Monkey.
“I’m…a pig,” says Piggy.
“I’m a horse,” says the Horse.
“So what are you?” the Monkey asks me.
“I’m a bison.”
“Bison? I didn’t know there was such thing as bison. What year is that?”
“Go ask your phone.”
“Fine, I will…Siri, what is the year of the bison?”
Siri doesn’t quite understand. The Monkey is getting impatient. “So why don’t you just tell us the year instead of making us guess?” she says.
“That would take the fun out of it.”
“Oh come on,” says the Monkey. “This is so unnecessary.”
A diversion would be good here. I turn to Piggy. “So you turn…twenty-nine this year?”
“Yes,” she says.
“You know,” the Monkey points out, “I hate to tell you, but twenty-nine was a horrible year for me.”
“Because you just think about thirty being right around the corner. And you’re wishing to have done more by the time you’re thirty, that you’d have established yourself more. That’s why. When you actually turn thirty you’re just glad it’s over with.”
Piggy nods; she has five months to prepare.
Someone’s cellphone rings. The Horse answers — it’s his girlfriend. The rest of us quiet down to overhear their conversation. (Piggy, Monkey, and Bison all appear to be single. And nosy.)
“Love you, too,” says the Horse before he hangs up.
“Awwwwwww,” coos the Monkey.
“Shut up,” the Horse snaps.
“That’s just so cute.”
“Shut up. All-a-you shut up.” The Horse returns to poking at his sushi and blocks out our laughter.
I look over at Piggy and Monkey and think back to several months ago when the Ratio was first explained to me. Is the Ratio to blame (or partly to blame) for each of these women not being in love? Or is it more complicated than that? I don’t know them that well — I know some of their friends, but not many of the details. I’m not sure they would trust me with specifics right now, especially since I keep so many of mine locked up here.
“So really, how come you don’t tell us your age?” asks the Monkey.
“It’s bad luck,” I riff. “It’s like bad feng shui. You don’t put the bed facing the door, and you don’t tell people your age. Same principle.”
“That’s sounds, eh…bullshit to me.”
“Ask Siri if it’s bullshit.”