By Amy Bishop
It was another day and another date with the somewhat dubious Simon who was still trying to keep me from my thesis under the guise of getting me “out and about” to “revitalise and re-invigorate” – I was quite sure this was all my mothers doing.
Tonight’s date was at an “avant-garde” art show. Obviously he was running out of ideas. But there was wine and there was company and he was going to a lot of effort. My thesis could wait a few hours while I schmoozed, drunk and joked about the art.
Of course, nothing really went as planned, or at least not as I had planned – because really, who plans for that kind of thing?
“Simon… what is that?” I said, stopping in the middle of the gallery as the crowd had apparently fortuitously parted allowing me to see two ‘performers’.
“One of the exhibits”
“No, Simon, that isn’t an exhibit. That is two people having sex in a room full of people.”
“If you already knew then why did you ask?”
“Last time I checked that was porn.”
“No, it’s an exhibit. It’s being displayed in an exhibition. They are exhibitionists. It’s a commentary on words and language.”
“No Simon. Its porn, porn based on puns and not very good ones either. Is that what the rest of the display is as well? More puns? What the hell ever happened to art?”
“I’m going home.” and making a note to not let Simon take me to any other avant-garde art shows… Or just not let him take me to anything, no matter how sorry I felt for him. Puns, do not a date make.