Sarah was the fourth most beautiful woman I knew. I told her so; I thought that she would take it as a compliment. But she stormed off, shouting an expletive at me.
I was surprised by her reaction, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I went back to her, and told her that I actually knew a lot of women, fifty-six, if you include recent acquaintances, and therefore she was almost in the top seven per cent. She should be delighted – but she wasn’t.
“What did your number one say to you? Or your number two or three?” she retorted, “and you’re not even my number two hundred and fifty-six.”
She was clearly not amused, but guess what? 256 is 4 to the power 4. She has a mathematical mind. She is on a wavelength with me. As for the three best looking women I know, I do not fancy them the way I do Sarah. I probably should have explained that to her, but I didn’t get a chance.
I spoke to my mate, Mike. Mike is much more worldly than I am, but he “gets” me. Anyway, Mike, good bloke that he is, said to me
“Why did you refer to her by a number?”
“But I love numbers? I understand numbers.”
“Better than people, especially women.”
“But I am honest…”
“And you think everyone else is honest, and appreciates hearing the truth?”
“You like her. That’s all she needs to know.”
I went back to Sarah. "Hey, Sarah…”
“I’ve got a name!”
“Of course; anyway, forget my stupid, confused utterances, I just want you to know that you’re my number one.”
“Really? In that case you’re my number one to the power four.”
1 to the power 4 is 1! 1 to the power anything is 1. I was in. I ran after her.
“When I said to you the other day…”
“Did you say something?”
“You know I…”
“It doesn’t matter….”
“Shut up…I’ll be in the “Cool Café, at 4. , no, 3p.m.”