Nick Hornby - High Fidelity

High Fidelity
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Page 50 of 112
6/20/2006
have a terrible, chilling, bone-shaking experience: the most pathetic man in the world gives me a smile
of recognition. The Most Pathetic Man In The World has huge horn-rimmed spectacles and buckteeth;
he’s wearing a dirty fawn anorak and brown cord trousers which have been rubbed smooth at the knee;
he, too, is being taken to see Howard’s End by his parents, despite the fact that he’s in his late twenties.
And he gives me this terrible little smile because he has spotted a kindred spirit. It disturbs me so much
that I can’t concentrate on Emma Thompson and Vanessa and the rest, and by the time I rally, it’s too
late and the story’s too far on down the road for me to catch up. In the end, a bookcase falls on
someone’s head.
I would go so far as to say that TMPMITW’s smile has become one of my all-time top-five low points,
the other four of which temporarily escape me. I know I’m not as pathetic as the most pathetic man in
the world (Did he spend last night in an American recording artist’s bed I very much doubt it.); the
point is that the difference between us is not immediately obvious to him, and I can see why. This,
really, is the bottom line, the chief attraction of the opposite sex for all of us, old and young, men and
women: we need someone to save us from the sympathetic smiles in the Sunday-night cinema queue,
someone who can stop us from falling down into the pit where the permanently single live with their
mums and dads. I’m not going back there again; I’d rather stay in for the rest of my life than attract that
kind of attention.
Twelve
During the week, I think about Marie, and I think about The Most Pathetic Man In The World, and I
think, at Barry’s command, about my all-time top five episodes of Cheers: 1) The one where Cliff found
a potato that looked like Richard Nixon. 2) The one where John Cleese offered Sam and Diane
counseling sessions. 3) The one where they thought that the chief of staff of the U.S. armed forces,
played by the real-life admiral guy, had stolen Rebecca’s earrings. 4) The one where Sam got a job as a
sports presenter on TV. 5) The one where Woody sang his stupid song about Kelly. (Barry said I was
wrong about four of the five, that I had no sense of humor, and that he was going to ask Channel 4 to
scramble my reception between nine-thirty and ten every Friday night because I was an undeserving and
unappreciative viewer.) But I don’t think about anything Laura said that Saturday night until
Wednesday, when I come home to find a message from her. It’s nothing much, a request for a copy of a
bill in our household file, but the sound of her voice makes me realize that there are some things we
talked about that should have upset me but somehow didn’t.
First of all,—actually, first of all and last of all—this business about not sleeping with Ian. How do I
know she’s telling the truth She could have been sleeping with him for weeks, months, for all I know.
And anyway, she only said that she hasn’t slept with him yet, and she said that on Saturday, five days
ago. Five days! She could have slept with him five times since then! (She could have slept with him
twenty times since then, but you know what I mean.) And even if she hasn’t, she was definitely
threatening to. What does ‘yet’ mean, after all “I haven’t seen Resevoir Dogs yet.” What does that
mean It means you’re going to go, doesn’t it
“Barry, if I were to say to you that I haven’t seen Reservoir Dogs yet, what would that mean”
Barry looks at me.
“Just … come on, what would it mean to you That sentence ‘I haven’t seen Reservoir Dogs yet’ ”
“To me, it would mean that you’re a liar. Either that or you’ve gone potty. You saw it twice. Once
with Laura, once with me and Dick. We had that conversation about who killed Mr. Pink or whatever
fucking color he was.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But say I hadn’t seen it and I said to you, ‘I haven’t seen Reservoir Dogs yet,’
what would you think”
“I’d think, you’re a sick man. And I’d feel sorry for you.”
“No, but would you think, from that one sentence, that I was going to see it”
“I’d hope you were, yeah, otherwise I would have to say that you’re not a friend of mine.”