Are You A Junkie?

8 Aug

“Do you think maybe you’re a junkie?”

That wasn’t the question I expected to be asked as I sat pondering the lunch menu at Carluccio’s in High Street Kensington.  This wasn’t a meet up with my therapist, counsellor or any other such helpful-minded-bothered-about-me person.  This was actually a first time lunch meet with a potential business associate.

And so I was rather taken aback.

property junkie

I took a large gulp of wine, before wondering if I now looked like an alcoholic on top of a junkie.

“Interesting question” I replied.  Which I find is always the best response when you haven’t got a clue how to respond.  “Interesting” is a catch all for a whole range of emotions – including WTF do I say or do now!  Which is how I felt.

But there is only so long you can play for time before you start to arouse suspicions when you have been asked such a direct question.  Unless I answered soon to whether or not I was a junkie I was going to be seen as guilty, regardless of if I later protested my innocence.

I twisted a coil of my hair in my fingertips and fluttered my eyelashes in what I hoped to be an alluring manner, rather than the nervous twitch of a junkie.  Looking coy, I thought, should be the distraction tactic.

It didn’t work.

This time the question was asked more forcefully and with *meaning* accompanied by one of those deep and meaningful “You can confess all to me” expressions which you often find in deep and meaningful movies.   And it was deep.  And meaningful.

property junkie

I bit my lip, nervously gnawing off a whole swathe of deep pink waxy lipstick (worn because of my outfit – not the deep and meaningful look).  The outfit had been planned…the conversation hadn’t been.

Before I knew it, I had reached for the wine glass again and swigged the entire fizzy pink contents down.

And, then I found myself blurting.  Blurting until I could not stop.

Yes, I confess, I am a junkie.  I admit it. I am addicted.

“It must be the adrenaline” he replied pretty nonchalantly, which I felt was highly inappropriate given the size of my confession.

But, he smiled at me encouragingly and bathing me in a warmth which felt like a snuggly, fleecy baby’s blanket, he said: “I can understand how you could get hooked.  In fact, I would love to join your AAA club”.

I looked at him quizzically.

“AAA club” I asked

“Auction Addicts Anonymous” he guffawed as he filled my wine glass right to the rim.

Deftly I reapplied my deep pink lipstick and passed him a sheet of paper.

“Here, you can sign up right here” And I passed him a pen.

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