Susan 1

Indira is always into theatrical gestures. With one of these, she sets down her coffee cup. Raising an eyebrow, irritated tone, "so just why does this Jean-Claude not measure up to your standards? I think he's dashing."
I sigh, speak in a tone of teacher addressing Grade 3's, "he's a full badge member in the Rock Machine, you do recall they have that big feud ongoing with the Hell's Angels in Montreal. Way he rides that Harley, only a question of time til he has a fatal accident; just as soon not be riding it when it happens. Throw in all that cocaine usage, he could go violent any time, beat me up."
Indira sniffs, "we-ell, if you're gonna get all fussy."
Elke grimaces, "and it isn't like we don't try to help you out. I mean, what on earth was wrong with my cousin Wolfgang?" Sarcastic tone, "little too neoNazi for you?"
I sigh, "any man with a shaved head, a swastika for one earring and an Iron Cross for another; who greets his friends with 'a happy H2 to you', doesn't just appear to be neoNazi, he is."
Elke sniffs, "oh come on, just a phase they go through, he'll grow out of it."
Level tone, I say, "and in the meantime, just how exactly does he handle the social contradiction? Does he greet his friends with 'meet Susan, my token Hebe girlfriend'?"
Elke rolls her eyes, "oh come on, he'd take the earrings off in bed surely."
Francesca jumps in, "and what pray tell caused Diego to not meet the Princess's lofty and unattainable standard? Wears a silk suit, brings flowers."
I chuckle, "he's a used car salesman. All of them are bad, him more so. He could and would cheat his own mother on a used car deal."
Everyone laughs.
Indira takes a serious tone, "I'm getting right tired of you. I don't recall how it is you ended up in our coffee group, but you just plain do not fit. I call a vote, here and now. Elke? Francesca?"
It's unanimous.
With a cool gesture, I take my coat and cup, move to a table a ways away. Then to the magazine rack, where I select The Economist. I've just finished an article on how the French comic book industry is struggling, what with all the Japanese manga imports. A slight shaking of the table pulls me back into the here and now. All three are sitting with me.
Goofy smile, Elke says, "we ah reconsidered. Realized you're the only practical one among us. Anytime we need help deciphering things like income tax forms, well."
Francesca jumps in, "more important, the only sane one. Without you as anchor, we'd all go totally crazy, one-upping each other."
Indira smiles wickedly, "and as for you, well you get all the fun of the soap opera, without the tedium of actually watching it on TV."
By now, we're all laughing.
Indira asks, "so, friends again? No hard feelings?"
"Sure, why not?"
I'm last to leave the coffee house, as I stop to replace the magazine in its rack. As I pass the front counter, Carol is unoccupied, there being no customers this moment.
She gives a wicked smile, "rough crowd eh?"
"You bet."
"So ah, how many times have they thrown you out, then taken you back?"
I laugh easily, "gotta be at least half dozen, this year alone."
Serious look, "know why they do that?"
"No, enlighten me."
"Keep you on edge."
"And why would they bother with doing that?"
Cheeky grin, waves her hand, "look around, see all the people here. Now I ask you, do Indira, Elke and Francesca measure up to this crowd? Of course not."
I start to blush, as I sense where she's headed.
"They're pi**ants. None of them ever has any really good stories. You're the only one who'll listen to them."
I blush hotly, "where exactly does that leave me?"
With that she blushes, "oh sorry, didn't mean it that way. It's just you don't count. No one ever expects anything out of you, just accept you how you are."
"You mean because I was raised ultraOrthodox?"
"Bingo, still friend, if I was you, I'd dump them as friends. Total waste of your time."