Last night Ted and Gary came round to the café to play poker. The four of us sat in one of the dimly lit booths after closing time. We ate olives and nuts and we drank a lot of wine. Needless to say Guido and I lost spectacularly.
“I’m a little worried,” I said. Ironically I wasn’t talking about the hand of cards Gary had just dealt me. “Apparently it’s been proven,” I said crunching a macadamia, “that very attractive couples who are married are statistically more likely to get divorced.”
“Oh no, please no,” groaned Gary raising his eyes to the ceiling, “tell me you’ve not been reading another one of those ridiculous on-line surveys.”
Well, clearly I had.
“Researchers at Harvard University asked two women to judge the attractiveness of 238 men in their high school year books. They then accessed ancestry.com to uncover the men’s marriage and divorce data.”
Nobody said anything.
“And guess what? The men who were facially attractive had shorter marriages.” I sipped my wine. “Just saying.”
When I say I was worried, what I really meant was that on a scale of one to ten I was a – barely concerned two and a half. This was on account of the fact that the survey failed to go into any details about how bothered you should be if, as is the case in my relationship, your partner happens to be considerably better looking than you are. Naturally I was hoping my wonky nose and bushy eyebrows would help even out our longevity on the marriage front.
“Which just goes to show what those intellectual dummies at Harvard do all day long,” said Guido re-shuffling his deck.
“Hey, you know Jean-Paul may be onto something,” said Ted nodding, “l mean, think about it, Brad Pitt?”
We all sat for a moment silently contemplating whether Brad was hot in his year book picture. The conclusion was that he probably didn’t have braces, pimples or wore thick glasses.
“If I hadn’t met Ted I would’ve been perfectly happy to take my chances with Brad until he got completely bored of our relationship and dumped me for Jennifer,” said Gary.
I tried to think of a funny amalgam of Brad and Gary’s names but couldn’t afford (literally) to get distracted from poker. And any way, if anyone should’ve been having sleepless nights about that particular survey then I reckon it was Ted and Gary.
Ted is a handsome semi-retired millionaire silver fox and Gary is a highly chislled flight attendant with great biceps. Nobody illustrates the brace position like Gary does. Let’s just say the fact they also both look utterly fabulous together probably means their relationship is teetering on a knife’s edge.
“Yeah, well apparently the study also suggested that having a good looking partner also meant that others would treat you with a lot less compassion,” I said, “which explains why you guys never let me win at cards.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Guido later in bed, “you have to remember we’re probably the weirdest couple combination there could possibly be.” And if that wasn’t a back handed compliment then I didn’t know what was.
I lay in the dark. I wondered if Brad was in bed and if he was, what was he doing, and who was he doing it with.
Statistically I was just thankful I wasn’t there.