Two of our Hornswood (being the dynamic little suburbs from Hornsby to Chatswood) friends put on a dinner party, with the express intention of getting our buddy Stu (whose wife had left him a year or so earlier) to meet their friend Kelly, who had split with her hubby years before. So there was my lovely wife and I, Stu, two other couples, the hosts, Kelly (who we’d never met) and her sister-in-law Lana.

Stu, being pretty nervous about being set up with his first post-separation lady, got a bit… pissed.

Now Stu, is a truly lovely guy, a great mate, polite, concerned with other people’s feelings, never swears in front of women, is just a really nice bloke. Two things happened that night, which he wished… didn’t.

We were all sitting around the table having a great time. Stu stands up and in his courteous way, asks if anybody would like a drink.

Me – “Water!” I had a large, orange, plastic tumbler in my hand and threw it to him.

Stu – “I don’t get water for blokes. Alcohol only Cool Hand! (most of my mates call me by this self-ascribed poker call-sign)” He threw the tumbler back.

Me – “We’re not sixteen here Stu. You know I never need encouragement to drink beer, I just want a water too.” I threw the tumbler back.

Feeling a bit loose and crazy, with a loud Seinfeld Soup-Nazi voice, Stu yells “NO WATER FOR YOU” and theatrically swiped the tumbler out of the air.

It turns out, that some expensive glassware, can actually look and feel like plastic.

The tumbler slammed into a painting on the wall and shattered! Shards of glass went through the living room carpet, all over “John Howard” the Cavoodle, into the couch and covered the floor.

Stu was mortified.

He appeared to Kelly and Lana to be a man who had just smashed a glass into the wall, because he didn’t want his friend drinking any water.

Anyway, after about half an hour of vacuuming the floor, the couch and John Howard we all settled back down to the table once more. We all laughed, but Stu felt terrible and kept apologising to the lady of the house.

Meanwhile, I kept mentioning to Kelly that I knew her face from somewhere and we finally worked out that she was the sister of a good friend of mine Roger Angler from school and they looked incredibly similar.

Me – “Oh Jesus Kelly, if my memory is correct, that means Stu over there who they are trying to set you up with (Stu was in the kitchen apologising again to the hosts) took your sister to our Year 12 Formal!”

Kelly – “Oh wow! And my sister is now Lana here’s sister-in-law. Small world.”

Thank God, something they could talk about to drag the attention from Stu smoting glasses. I knew he really liked Kelly’s sister and they were still knew each other, so they could all sit around saying how lovely she is. What a great conversation piece.

Stu walked back to the table.

Me – “Hey Stu! You remember our mate Roger Angler from school? You took his sister to the formal.”

Keep in mind that Stu was quite inebriated and was still recovering from the emotional roller coaster of having glassed the living-room.

Stu – “I do indeed Cool Hand (he said with a smile and a cocky head wobble). He was a dick! Now I don’t wish to talk out of school, you may want to block your ears ladies, but his sister and I lost our virginity together behind Curzon Hall at the formal, with an old Fijian kitchen-hand looking on. She was wild and loved the fact that he was watching. She was an aaaaanimal and I thought I was the only one for her. Turns out, I wasn’t even the only one for her… that night!” He laughed loudly.

I was not expecting that.

Kelly – “My little sister ?” Kelly looked shocked.

Stu – “Huh?” He looked to me and I mouthed the word sorry.

Lana – “The one who married my brother?” I wasn’t expecting that either.

Stu just stared blankly. Wordless. Unmoving.

It’s funny, Stu and Kelly never ended up going on a date. There must have been no spark.

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Thanks for reading. I write blogs oftentimes just to be able to claim when meeting a new person at a Hornswood party, that I am in fact… a writer (whereby my wife generally jumps in and proclaims “he’s actually NOT a writer”). If you could Share far and wide via the buttons below, that would be amazing. I write stuff for a few small companies, but I need to one day be a famous contributor to the noble art of blogging. And check out the brilliant new craft-beer home delivery business I have set up with a few North Shore dads (gettincrafty.com.au) Cheers