Many years ago now, I moved to Wellington as a fresh-faced kid.
I was still of the ilk that thought people only ever thought and did their best by others.
When I first got to "Welly" I had nowhere to stay. I had advertised in a paper for board. One of my workmates found me a place. "they sound lovely" he said. Ok.
I moved in.
After about 3 weeks, I noticed the couple I lived with had some "odd" friends. They kept odd hours and had lots of different people stay over. They wore bugger-all.
One night, after a few wines and a nice dinner I had cooked, the wife remarked that she thought I needed a "friend". i reminded her that my then-boyfriend was overseas. I would wait until he returned.
She said she understood that, but that "wimmin" have needs and if I ever wanted to, she was "happy" to lend me her husband.
To be honst, I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry. One of life's defining moments I guess. The husband was a skinny, greasy and generally lust-quenching weasel. She, on the other hand, was equally lust-quenching, very chubby, sweaty and bad tempered to boot.
I was 20. I had nowhere else to go. My parents would take days to rescue me.
I did what I thought was best.
I demured. I wittered on about how flattered I was, but that my self control was fine. really. Thanks but no thanks. I learned how to barricade my bedroom door.
I also scanned the papers 'toute suite' and found somewhere else promptly.
I do wonder how well we raise our kids to make good decisions. Do we "molly-coddle" them so much that we think they have to consult us before they even so much as fart, or do we trust them to make their own mistakes? Shoud we? My kids so far seem fine. At the BBQ last night, awash with nurses, my 11 year old remarked that for a bunch of health workers they sure smoked a lot.
This song has been on my mind all weekend. I love it.