Perfect first dates are just about as elusive as coelacanth sightings, but I had a really great night with the b-boy. I had no idea how much to expect – I wasn’t expecting it to be a fiasco- I trust his taste but I wasn’t expecting to be completely swept off my feet, or have blood rushing to my cheeks to the point that I’d be too embarassed to make eye contact with him.
And why? Well, if you’re normally used to thinking ten steps ahead of most men and you’re able to pre-empt what they will say or do, you can appreciate what happens when you can’t. In other words, it’s nice, gratifying and mildly embarassing when someone surprises you to the point of getting the better of you.
The food was nice- Asian fusion- rather heavy on the tummy but pleasant nonetheless. We had Chilean white wine with the main course and sweet Italian white with the decadent dessert platter. On a more self-absorbed note, may I also add that I looked very nice in my black skirt, black satin shoes and blue lace corset.
But as MC Solaar says, le context est plus forte que le concept, i,e the context is stronger than.. you guessed it..the concept. It’s not about choosing the expensive, posh restaurant (it’s cliched and anyone with coupla hundred dollars can do that), it’s about choosing the restaurant on the 70th floor because he pissed you off on the 84th. It’s not about bringing a present. It’s about bringing something that he saw you put back on the shelf because you were hesitant to buy it. It’s about picking you up in a limo and asking the driver to take a random circuitous route so that you have time to talk, listen to music and try in vain to figure out just where the hell he is taking you.
I guess what I am trying to say is that night was the brownie points lottery and he won big.
Knocking on wood, desperately hoping he doesn’t poof into an asshole-extraordinaire…
p.s. I have a telephone interview (the second one) with a European investment bank in less than fifteen minutes- I should be reading up mezzanine debt or some such crap and here I am, blogging about foie gras and silk scarves.
p.p.s. I have a paper due tomorrow and exams in two weeks, after which I am headed to Hanoi for the weekend/break. Life is hectic!
p.p.p.s. I don’t eat foie gras. Niether should you. It’s cruel.