How Dumb WAS She?

OK, it's Saturday morning and time for us to relax. Today's topic is my old friend, Bambi (the name has been changed to protect the naive). Bambi was an amazing creature. She was a tall, attractive brunette who received As all through high school and college, but was somehow the Idiot Savant of the the campus. My personal theory is that she was just plain lazy when it came to thinking about any subject that wasn't required. So, how dumb was she?

When we were teenagers, I used to hang out at her family's house a lot. They lived on the beach, and we would spend the weekends laying around on the beach working on our tans and flirting with the boys. One Saturday morning, a couple of really cute college boys walked over to us and started hitting on us. They had a cooler with them, and they spread their towels out next to us. As we were talking, the one closest to me offered me a beer. I took it and started swigging it, as Bambi continued to talk to the other guy.

Now, Bambi was a goody-two-shoes and would never have dreamed of doing anything she was told not to do. I was very daring and would often do something just to see how it played out. So as I brazenly chugged the beer, Bambi turned around and, in mid-sentence, she stopped and gasped "Saur, you're drinking a beer!"

"It's not beer, Bambi, it's coke in a beer can," I replied breezily. "Oh," she said, "Thank goodness."

This lack of intellect continued into adulthood. As a roommate, she was both loveable and completely annoying. She never thought ahead. She would blithely leave wet towels on antique furniture, figuring that everything would dry out eventually. She would also get on kicks and ride them out until she had exhausted everyone around her with her fervor. For a while, it was a nauseating diet powder that you had to mix into juice and drink rapidly. That spun off into an intense vitamin regimen which must have cost her a fortune. Then it was facials, or a boob job, or cooking.

One day while I was at work, Bambi called. "Saur, what's the difference between a tibble and a tisp?" she asked. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Bambi. Can this wait till later?" I pleaded. "No, I want to have dinner ready when you come home," she said. "If you can just tell me the difference, I can get started."

"Ohhh," I said. "A tibble is a tablespoon, a tisp is a teaspoon." "OK, I'm looking in the silverware drawer right now. Which is the tablespoon, and which is the teaspoon?" she asked... "And what's a 'C'?"

I am not lying.

Our friendship finally ended when she had an affair with a married man. She came home from work one day, euphoric that she had met this really great guy. After that, she would never stop talking about him. I had to hear about Rich's smile, his food preferences, his favorite colors, what he said to her that day, why he wore his watch on his right arm instead of his left one, etc. She would follow me around, talking incessently about Rich. My only hope of peace was to develop a violent bout of imaginary stomach flu or pretend to fall asleep.

Finally, one day I had to ask. "So, when am I going to meet this hunk?" I questioned. "Oh, someday," she said, waving her arm about vaguely. "He's really busy and has a complicated relationship with his ex wife."

That set off warning bells. I asked her what she meant by that. It turned out he had told her he was still living with his wife but they were divorced with kids. He didn't want to get the 'ex' jealous, so he couldn't openly date anyone else. Knowing how gullible Bambi was, I tried to make her see that this was a complete con. But Bambi was in love, and couldn't understand why I was so intent on destroying her happiness.

"Look, Bambi," I tried (on several occasions). "He won't give you his home number, you only have his cell and you can't call him on weekends. You've been dating a couple months now, and you've never met any of his friends or children. Doesn't this say to you that he's married and having an affair?" Nope. She remained stubbornly, blissfully ignorant. Until, one day when he admitted the truth. She was floored.

I came home to a new Bambi. She was packing her things. "What are you doing?" I asked, in horror. I saw half the rent going right out the window. She told me what happened. "I've decided to start a new life," she said airily. "I'm going somewhere where I can forget it all."

"But what about the rent?" I said, floored. "I can't make it on my own right now." "Oh, you'll find some way around it," she said confidently. "You always do. You are so lucky - everything works out for you." "Yeah, because I work at it!" I said. "Please, Bambi, don't do this right now. At least give me time to find another roomie." But my pleas fell on deaf ears. Bambi had discovered a new fad: Finding Herself.

That was the last I heard of Bambi. I don't know if she ever Found Herself. I heard she moved to one of the nearby cities, so I guess she Found Herself nearby. I'm still wondering to this day: Exactly what did she find?

c. 2005