I took a date to St Jerome’s once. She was all spiffed up, dress and all. One drink led to another and we end up back at her place. As I was taking my pants off she told me we weren’t gonna have sex, so I said, ‘no worries, I’ll just crash out.’
As I got down to my undies, she was already naked and doing the splits on the bed, her back covered in tattoos. Then all of a sudden it was on…the splits and all. ‘Not gonna have sex’ felt like full on sex to me.
When we finished I went to sleep, then for some reason I woke up screaming. She was still up, watching me closely as I slept. I said, ‘why don’t you go to sleep?’ She said, ‘if I close my eyes you’re gonna stab me aren’t you?’
As I was putting my jeans on, I called the cab and the cab dispatcher said, ‘Hung, are you okay? Where are ya? We’ll come get ya.’
The cab people know I’m in trouble before I do.
The moral of the story: Leave your troubles at St Jerome’s. Let someone else stab them.