date #7 of 2013 – "boy oh boy, where do I begin"*

* Santa’s words when I gave him the date lowdown.Admittedly this blog is having some kind of weird Memento style rewind-fastforward style thanks to me not doing my homework. But you, the reader, has shown impeccable taste and intelligence by continuing to read only the finest of writings on the interweb. Surely with your superior comprehension skills, you must not mind.

Last Tuesday: Lawyerboy predictably cancelled i.e. asked to reschedule due to a cold without suggesting an alternative date. Fast forward to him booty-texting a coupla nights later. I told him I ignored him on purpose and that he better give me advance notice. To which he replied, “I will be out tonight. There’s your advance notice”. I pulled the same stunt on the American teacher because I had a potential date with an Indian dude who showed more promise. Circle of Life I guess. But my date pipeline is not dry – I am having dinner with banking/cute smile guy (AIG) tomorrow and then drinks with British Indian fund manager day after tomorrow. I am slightly nervous about these two as I scalded my chin with hot gravy while cooking and it is a different colour than the rest of my face. I would hope that the scabs fall off soon but then I worry my chin will look raw and I don’t know which look is worse.

So I guess what’s left for me to do is give you a lowdown of what went down on Saturday night. Because some crazy shit went down and I have been fighting with myself on whether or not to tell you. Just like I am fighting the urge to text him now to tell him I really want to go see Blur and the Affordable Art Fair that is coming up in 2 weeks. No, Jups, don’t lead the guy on.

Okay, are you ready for this? Because this is a long-ass update of an absolutely mental evening. I am not usually invisible to men, some days I am, but most days I can get a second look and this doesn’t surprise me. But on some rarer occasions, things get crazy like it’s mating season and I get hoardes of men fighting over me and it baffles me because I am not a supermodel. If anything, I am a little harder to notice what with being pint-sized and all. Santa has a brilliant theory about this but that will come after I tell you the whole story.

What was I wearing? One of my favourite things – a silk twill Ralph Lauren skirt that looks like it was fashioned from a silk twill scarf and if that wasn’t French enough, let me tell you that it’s white, powder blue and navy with a nautical motif and the word Marseille running across it. It’s one of the prettiest things I own and I paired it with a ratty navy blue teeshirt that’s so worn out that the sleeve falls to the side. I wore just that way because I figured after two dates, the scientist deserved a little bit of cleavage. (We had talked about this on date #2 while discussing proper second date behaviour)

Date Part 1: Dinner
The Scientist, being polite as ever, had asked if I fancied dinner before we went to see the stand-up comedy act (mind you he suggested stand-up after he found out that I am crazy about it, brownie points!) and I had agreed and suggested pizza. We went to Pizzeria Publicco which is quite chilled out and grabbed two slices each, a beer for him and a house red for me. I paid because he’d paid for the last two dinners and this was the point where I’d started to feel guilty. I should also tell you that during conversation, I was so impressed with the fact that he’d volunteered to help injured citizens during the London bomb blasts that I gracelessly spilled my wine by aiming my wine glass somewhere south of the mouth. Luckily I missed my skirt.

Date Part 2: Comedy
We grabbed our seats and the Scientist ran out to get beers. When he came back, he rather coyly whispered “that’s a really beautiful dress”. Score. The show was brilliant, the comedian wildly funny and we laughed our faces off. I still don’t know whether it’s a bright idea to laugh like a maniac whilst on a date but he’d already seen me do that at One Man, Two Guvnors (though admittedly this was much worse). After the show ended, the organizers urged us all to go to the bar they’d tied up with. I thought this a good idea. At the time.

Date Part 3: Post-comedy drinks
The comedian was at the bar too and as he walked by, I made it a point to congratulate him over what was clearly a riotous show. He was gracious, introduced himself to both of us and had a chat with us, especially with the Scientist over Iran and other things. Later in the line for the loo, I ran into the comedian again and he quite abruptly said that I was very beautiful. Uh oh. Meanwhile, the scientist brought up the pub quiz night and told me how he had lost sleep over the whole third wheel situation “I woke up at 6 am that morning thinking I am really punching above my weight here”. I was really shocked to hear such a brutally honest admission. I smiled and said nothing but my spider sense was tingling – this was not going to be a regular Saturday night.

Date Part 4: Rooftop Raucousness
A few drinks later, said comedian (who according to Santa is a shorter, chubbier version of Conan O’Brien, ha!) said that his mates were having an afterparty on someone’s rooftop and that we simply had to go. So we did. It was a bit crazy and we got quite drunk. The scientist was thrilled because he claimed this sort of thing never happened to him (he lied, as I later found out). On the walk over, the comedian slyly asked me how long “we” had been together – I said “we” hadn’t and that I was simply on my 3rd date. In hindsight, this was a overly honest thing to admit to a drunk person. Later on, the comedian started blabbing about women and how most guys don’t deserve nice women and how some guys are just punching above their weight with gorgeous girls like me. Uh oh! (yes, the same phrase used, how unfortunate) And the Scientist agreed, “Yeah I know she’s way out of my league, I’m a very lucky guy.” I’d have been embarrassed had I been sober but my reactions were at this stage limited to hopeless giggling. In fact, I did very little talking the rest of the night.

And then it got crazier…we danced a lot and got amply drunk (to the point of skulling tequila straight from skull-shaped Kah tequila bottles). On one occasion, when the scientist wasn’t looking, the comedian convinced me to kiss him and kiss him I did. But I behaved after that. I also remember somehow dancing with me quite aggressively while the scientist was basically riding the comedian’s back like a horse. That was when I decided it was time to leave – all the attention was great but I didn’t want to end up doing something idiotic and humiliating my sweet date. (I do like him!) At which point ANOTHER guy physically held me back – “you are so amazing, so gorgeous I really like you..” And he was extremely cute!!! So fuck!

Sidebar: I still remember his face vividly and secretly hope I run into him again! Why do such things always happen when I am on dates with other men? Few months ago the German dude I dated casually, I met while on a date with Chris!

Date Part 5: Hangover
Anyway, we extracted ourselves from the debauchery and came home to my place. My place was a 200m away from the rooftop party. It’s like everyone cool lives in Sheung Wan. We kissed a bit. He was drunk and repeatedly told me that I was beautiful…at one point I believe it was “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world”. Prince was not playing in the background! The scientist tells me that shortly after, I whispered him the warning “oh I am so tired now” and passed out. Lovely. (I also admitted kissing the comedian to him and he didn’t mind at all, in fact, the comedian had kissed him too!)

In the morning he woke up and said he had to go to an Indian cooking class and then to a lunch and seemed upset about leaving me (Who makes commitments like that on a Sunday morning?!). I was obviously wrecked with a killer hangover. So after he left, I napped a bit, had a 300 degree C shower and when I felt better, started making myself breakfast (burnt my chin in the process). He texted saying he would skip lunch and come spend time with me. So we had a delicious brunch of shakshuka together. We were both in disbelief about the night we had had and he reiterated that he didn’t know how our fourth date to top this one.
“So there will be a 4th date then? That’s good”, I said.
“Let’s run off to the South Pacific or Fiji or something…it’s the only way”
The man knows exactly what to say.

Ex-post Analyses:
1) As promised, here’s my hilarious friend and fellow-Lebowski-fan Santa’s take on why the men came at me the way they did “Any normal dude will rather try his chance with a girl with curves over a skinny model. Straight men (well maybe with the exception of Parisians..) prefer boobs and arses. Fashion is designed/ran by gay men who think that boobs are evil and will always favour Russian chicks that have the same body as a 10 year-old (yikes!) but that’s not how nature has made us. So yeah I can relate to the what 3 or 4 dudes that tried to cuddle up to you..Was it a new dress or had you had the same kind of success in the past with it? Maybe the Scientist wasn’t looking out enough for you either. A man needs to mark his territory..”

2) I must come clean and tell you that the fact that there were only two women at aforementioned rooftop party may have had something to do with all the attention I got. Especially because the other girl was dressed like a cheap ho! (I am so mature).

3) I ruined the heel of my beautiful stiletto. Collateral damage I suppose.

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