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She giggles. “It’s a saying that translates to ‘I think my pig whistles’,” she explains.
I absolutely bust the fuck up laughing. “What?! What the hell is that a saying for, what does it mean?”
Hazel’s giggling too much to speak, so Brendon steps in to explain. “She’s told me this one before, apparently it’s like a ‘you’ve got to be shitting me’ kind of expression, sort of?”
I tip my head thoughtfully. “I guess that makes about as much sense as phrases like ‘by the skin of your teeth’ or whatever. I always chalked some of that up to English just being weird, but apparently humans are just weird in any language.”
Brendon laughs and Hazel’s set off with a fresh peal of giggles. “Ain’t that the truth,” Brendon says, “Weirdness has no language barrier.”
“You know, thinking about that, is it actually weirdness if everyone does it?” I ask, “Weird’s supposed to be a deviation from the norm, right? But when weird is normal…”
“It kind of ceases to be weird,” Brendon finishes for me, “That’s kind of a good point.”
“I’ve kind of come to be of the opinion that there’s no such thing as ‘normal,’ unless you’re talking about washing machine settings,” I say, “Life’s so chaotic and random, and I think a lot of people restrict themselves and twist themselves in knots just trying to adhere to what’s ‘normal’.”
“How so?” Hazel asks.
“Well, okay, here’s an example: it’s generally thought of as weird to have something like spaghetti for breakfast, right?”
“Right.”
“But why not? You’d eat the same thing for lunch a few hours later, right? Why is it strange just based on the time of day?”
She thinks about it for a moment. “That’s true, it does seem super weird, but realistically, there’s no reason it should.”
“People impose a lot of rules on their lives that don’t actually exist,” I say with a shrug, “Be it with food, work, relationships…It’s all just silly.”
Brendon nods. “Yeah, it kind of reminds me of all the shit everyone complains about with the dating scene, all those weird arbitrary rules like waiting three days before calling a girl or whatever.”
“Exactly,” I laugh, “Which is a big part of the reason I don’t do the dating scene.”
“At all?” Hazel asks, looking surprised.
I shake my head. “Not really, not anymore. Not since I left the states,” and I go on to explain some of the dating dilemma here at the resort, with my choices reduced to people on temporary stays or co-workers.
“That sounds really lonely,” Hazel says, frowning.
“It can be,” I say honestly, “But I tried the commitment thing and it just never worked out. I guess I just never found that right person.”
“You make that sound so final,” she laughs, “You’re not some old man, washed up and done.”
“True, but you don’t exactly find someone when you’re not looking.”
“So what, you’re just gonna stay celibate for the rest of your life?” Brendon asks, taking a swig from his wineglass.
I smirk. “Never said that.”
He chokes and splutters a little bit, his face going a little red. “Not to get too crass, but dating and fooling around aren’t the same thing,” I continue, “I’m not trying to join a monastery.”
“Have you ever slept with one of your dance students?” Hazel asks, then claps her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s personal as hell, I shouldn’t be so nosy.”
“It’s okay,” I wave off her worries, “And yeah, it’s happened a few times, although not often, since I mostly teach the pairs classes and work with couples. Although that’s not necessarily a deal-breaker.”
And just like that, I’ve thrown it out there. I wasn’t putting the words out as an offer, at least not intentionally. But the unspoken message is there, like a neon-colored elephant in the room.
Brendon drains his wine glass, and I don’t miss the way he’s straightened up. He looks tense, and I wonder if I’ve pushed too far and made him uncomfortable.
“Do you do that often?” he asks, “Threesomes?”
