date #4 of 2013 – Drunk nerds unite, “bonne nuit beautiful”

I bought a timeshare on Struggle Street this morning after breaking rule #1 from my dating rules of engagement. Pink is not going to be pleased with me. It’s 10.40 am and I am still, literally, quite drunk. My hair smells like cigarettes because I didn’t wash it this morning because I didn’t realise it smelt of cigarettes till after I was fully dressed. But my date with the Iranian scientist was all sorts of pleasant and he seems to feel the same way. Actually, no, he feels extra extra enthusiastic exclamation point looking forward to date#2 exclamation point. He doesn’t know that I am a wild child.
We met at 8 pm at an obscure French bar to get wine and cheese and play Pétanque. He wasn’t handsome or anything but then again, I already knew that. He seemed a bit nervous too in beginning and I was slightly worried by his inability to maintain eye contact. (This changed later in the night). The cheese was so-so, the wine was great and the banter was fantastic. We didn’t run out of things to talk about. Granted not all of it was smart especially not after we had had oh I don’t know some eight glasses of red wine and three of free champagne. But we did discuss sciencey things and travel and food and his extremely mixed heritage. We also played several games of pétanque once the lanes cleared up. I won about ten, he, two. I had no idea I was that good and in fact I most certainly am not that good ergo he must have sucked really hard.

And then he kissed me! Twice! Thrice! Hazy on the details! The first kiss was crap. The last one, not so much. I am sensing the chemistry will need more time for me. He liked me a great deal (maybe too much) for a first date because he called me pretty, gorgeous and beautiful on text and in person. And I am a sucker for flattery. He’s made it very very clear that there will be a date#2 and that I should let him know as soon as I come back from the Philippines where I will be spending my idyllic Chinese New Year with Elvish Pixie, Minsky and Shimpy. Why do I get this horrible feeling that I am going to break this fellow’s heart?

Date #5 was meant to be tonight – dancing the night away with the American rockandrolla teacher guy. I decided instead to be kind to my liver and cancel. I will be home packing for aforementioned awesome trip and sipping on hot water because right now, my throat feels rougher than a much-weathered tar road. And if I don’t see American dude ever, I will be none the wiser. On the other hand, I do believe I should give every guy 3 dates to see how we get on unless of course he’s an avant-garde dick.

The bad news is that now I have no pipeline of dates. And I am secretly pining for the Indian bad boy. The good news is that I will be in gorgeous Bohol on Friday with the girls and none of this will matter. Chicks before Dicks Huzzah!

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