A Day in the Life of an Optimist from Kyiv, or Why I Need Someone Who Isn't Afraid of the Storm

Laughter through tears
Last week, a fit and dashing colleague invited our team to his birthday party; he spent a long time persuading everyone, insisting that it was a milestone birthday and he really didn't want to celebrate alone!
I thought, "Here’s a chance to unwind and relax!" I put on my best silk dress, styled my hair—and I was glowing!

A colleague and I agreed to pool our money and give it in an envelope. Since we didn't know the guy very well and weren't sure what to get him—and money is always a safe bet, letting him buy whatever he wants—we thought it was a good plan. We agreed to meet up and arrive together.
When we walked into the café, we were in shock!
He was wearing a tracksuit and carrying a supermarket shopping bag. Well, I thought, maybe he’d just come from his dacha; all sorts of things happen here in Kyiv. We sat down. My colleague and I ordered cappuccinos, while he ordered a glass of water. And then his monologue began.

Over the next forty minutes, we learned:
What a terrible ex-wife he has (classic!).

How expensive it is these days to service his Škoda.

And—most importantly—he went into vivid, painstaking detail about his joint pain whenever the weather changed.

We sat there nodding, wondering what on earth was coming next.
I could feel the romance, my good mood, and any hope of a relaxing time quietly dying inside me...
I never did find out what my colleague was thinking...
It felt both funny and terribly sad. Funny, because I’d wasted my best evening makeup on a lecture about arthritis. Sad, because here was a handsome, mature man of fifty who, instead of celebrating, was looking for a free therapist and a caregiver.

We realized that *this* was the whole celebration—we suddenly remembered we had come together because we urgently needed to finish some pressing work!
When the bill arrived (for our coffee and his water), he suddenly became flustered; he said he’d been so engrossed in our conversation that he’d completely forgotten he had booked a celebratory table, and that it was a shame we were leaving so early!

...he started looking for his wallet and came out with a real gem: "Olya, do you happen to have thirty hryvnias on your PrivatBank card? I’ve only got big bills, and waiting for change would take forever."

I finished my coffee in silence, paid for all three of us, left a tip, smiled, and said, "Igor, take care of your joints. Goodbye." Then my colleague and I went for a walk through evening Kyiv together. We walked along, crying out of sheer indignation, but then my colleague suddenly burst into loud laughter right there on Volodymyrska Street! You have to admit—it’s a joke just waiting to be told!

A colleague and I spent the whole evening talking about just one thing!

That surely no one else in the world has ever had such a "vibrant and fun" birthday!

Do you agree?

Or have you had something similar?
Care to tell me about it?