I don’t think Ike and I made for the most elegant sight in the world, holding hands as I awkwardly tried to remember how to skate based on the previous FOUR times I had ice-skated in my life. He was telling me how he had been skating since childhood but had not made the hockey team. Talk about a level playing field – that’s like a cheetah challenging a turtle with three legs to climb a tree. He may have laughed at me a couple of times but I didn’t fall and he said later that he would have felt very bad if I had fallen and had to go back to India with my arm in a sling (a possibility I had not given much thought to!) Continue reading
The Canadian – I shall call him Ike – was quite quick to ask me out on a second date after our first one on Thursday night. I had spent the weekend in Bangkok so he asked me on Monday whether I had recovered. Of course I had, I was out drinking already. He asked me what I wanted to do. I agreed to meet him on Tuesday and fueled by liquid courage, I told him to show some initiative and not make me do all the work. On Tuesday morning he proved that he had done his research by proposing two very different date ideas: an art gallery plus tacos or brace yourself, ice-skating!
Since before I went to Spain for work in late November, I had been chatting with a free-spirited Canadian man. He seemed extremely nice on messages and asked me for a drink on his first message itself. I had politely declined as I was crazy busy at the time and proposed that we catch up after my Spain trip if we were still in each others’ memories after I returned. He was not outdone by this and stayed in touch and even pointed me towards a cute little Mexican place in Madrid where I ended up taking my brother out to dinner. We finally made plans to meet more than a week after I returned from Spain. This was because, again, I had all sorts of social engagements including the HK panto.
Everytime I go on a date, I brace myself for what kind of circus freak/mutant I am about to meet. Even with all the prior messaging, photos, texting, the probability of meeting someone that’s really out of left field in some way or the other is disproportionately high. From the very rude and ill-educated to the mock-croc-pleather-wearing, from the superiority-complex-harbouring to the not-even-single-as-it-turns-out, you name it, I’ve dated it. And still there seems to be room for surprises. Continue reading
I must be the most fickle of beings because it is ridiculous how contrary I feel sometimes to my own thoughts just a few months or days ago. Here’s yet another horrible date I was on. It takes two hands to clap so admittedly I am slightly guilty as well. Continue reading
this is not the impractical house-warming present I had in mind but…
xo, Jups” Continue reading