Frustrated

The view from the large glass window in the restaurant was like sitting in the middle of a busy subway and yet not being there. The chill of the air conditioner on this Sunday afternoon made him order for rum, for which he had developed a subdued taste off late. It must have had been quite a while since he was sitting there, with the rush hour of maddening thoughts crashing into each other like those small sperms we used to watch on those medical documentaries on the discovery channel. During this state of trance he had lost the rhythm of exhaling the smoke from his Don Diego and only after the guy waiting his table came forward to strike a conversation with this lone drinker that he broke free from the state of careless dizziness. He never did like anyone breaking his stupor. He quietly and quickly scurried off the waiter after answering him in staccati monosyllables. Being a veritable recluse, the very notion of being involved in a social activity repulsed him to no extent. After scanning the surroundings he usually found it very difficult to rest his eyes, every corner being full of ostentatious display of revelry. After much straining of his eyes he finally immersed himself in the melancholy painted by George Elliot from yore. Just as he was beginning to slip into the shoes of Silas Marner, the protagonist, the cadence of his thoughts was rippled by the intrusion of a portly guy in his early thirties who was asking him if he would be kind enough to let him share his table as the restaurant was almost full. Being stabbed by the dagger of courtesy he nodded a dead approval. After settling himself down with a lot of screeching and fumbling and almost managing to spill his drink, Mr. Intruder finally started what he least wanted, a conversation. Being the bower of this sapling he had no other choice but to let the intruder ransack his loneliness. To make matters worse Mr. Intruder was soon accompanied by his girl. What followed afterwards was a pure cacophony. It appeared that the two of them were supposed to be on one of their "pre-date" sessions wherein the whole conversation revolves around the food you eat, the sitcoms you watch, the music you listen, do you smoke, how often do you drink etcetera. After sustaining the first round of assault the couple started with the more intimate stuff without turning down the volume. What thus began was a round of “what do you like in me?” and “I didn’t like it when you were speaking to that guy in office!” Not able to take it anymore he got up, asked for his check and departed. All that he wanted was to have his drink in peace, was it too much to ask for?