I´ve posted several noms about my 91-year-old mother-in-law, who loves nothing more than talking about the good old days, and one nom about a nephew who is allegedly a “philosopher”.
Both of them were at dinner tonight and the “philosopher” asked my mother-in-law how she had met her husband, i.e. his grandfather. Her eyes lit up as she launched into the story I´ve heard a million times.
As if this was not torture enough, someone then asked the “philosopher” how he had met his wife, a skinny not unattractive tattoed former vegan. As he likes nothing better than a captive audience and is a flake who believes in astrology rather than genuine academic knowledge, he rambled on for an hour about that magic night. It sounded to me like one of the many drunken nights I´ve had where I met a girl and scored. In his case, she got pregnant.
Despite his attempts to describe how this was the real thing, he is as boring as his grandmother and having to listen to him embellishing what was just a randy encounter irritated me, especially as Mrs. Polly sat there entranced, telling me to stop making sarcastic comments.
As the Everley Brothers said, Love is (definitely) blind.
Nominated by: Mr Polly



