Back when I was in college, IHOP was an institution both to those of us that were going to college and those of us that were not.
Clancy and I ate out tonight and I was reminded of an IHOP tale. My best friend Clint had a particular interest in young ladies with the following criteria: skinny, pale, young-looking, dark hair, glasses.
So when we had a waitress at IHOP one night that fit those criteria to a tee, it was no surprise that she immediately garnered her interest. In fact, she had so much going for her that it seemed impossible that she could leave without getting his number whether she wanted it or not.
It seemed impossible, but it was not. During the course of the dinner and general hanging out, Clint tried and succeeded starting up some rather casual conversations with her. During these sporadic conversations, he learned all about her three suicide attempts, her abortion, and her miscarriage. He learned about her former anerexia and former bulemia. He found out that she dropped out of school when she was twelve to move in with some 30-year old guy in Louisiana with a kid only two years younger than she.
Clint has a history with some rather unstable ladies (he and I always competed for the best — or worst, depending on how you look at it — stories about meeting and dating the strangest people). Clint himself has never really had his act together. He was as surprised as we were that he had found somebody so transparently and loudly twisted that it didn’t matter what she looked like.
We were all impressed with his newfound depth of character.