Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The game

So you'll remember from my last post that I went to dinner with a mystery texter whose name I had forgotten on Saturday night.

It didn't start well, he was 40 minutes late to pick me up only marginally redeeming himself by texting me that he was leaving shortly when he was already 20 minutes past the time of proposed pick up.

By the time he actually picked me up 20 minutes after that I was about to text HIM and tell him where to shove it. But I was somewhat intrigued about this mystery date and felt I would have to go on it just to put this whole saga to bed.


So he arrives in a beamer (which he borrowed from his Dad - yes he still lives at home) and as I approach with a huge amount of trepidation and holding my breath I am relieved to find he's not bad at all and I do in fact remember meeting him. That's the first hurdle over anyway!


As we drive along and chat it's obvious that he's either a really bad driver or a bit nervous because he pretty much nearly crashed about 5 times and almost ran pedestrians over on 2 separate occasions, all this on the way to dinner! I was on the edge of my seat thinking if I even make it to dinner without some sort of situation occurring it's going to be a miracle.

Thankfully we do make it to the venue of choice without a grievous chancing. I am very pleased about this since my nerves are all over the place and I really want to down a glass of wine. He chooses Speak Easy in Bondi, a nice relaxed wine bar which I have heard a lot about but never been too. The wine list is impressive as is the food. We order a couple of glasses my favourite french wine and then I ask what he fancied eating. To which he replies:

I am not really hungry so I won't order anything

WHAT? Didn't you ask me to dinner? Why did you do that if you had no intention of eating!

My reply:
Oh really? I thought we were having dinner?! Maybe we could grab a nibbly snacky thing?

Him: yes we could do that. Let's get the bruschetta.

Me: um (I don't want the bruschetta but I am so confused by what is going on I just agree) Ok


The wine arrives and we chat away. I babble on asking him about what he's been up to etc...the usual small talk. He then pulls out what I can only imagine to be his repertoire of 'things to say to girls on a date". The topics included:

You're very decorated is there a story behind all those bangles?

Me: wait what? Um (I got them from DIVA?) Well not really....(I proceed to make something up so as not to look rude) blah blah these are from bali...these are from a friend who makes jewellery for a living (what? where did that come from?!)

Other topics covered:
Older women know what they want
older women are more experienced and
older women don't need you to buy them dinner

Ok ok hang on a minute what was the last one??!! Aside from the fact that there is a lot of chat about the older woman what does he mean you don't need to buy me dinner!? I extract the age of this young buck (as he refers to himself - that says it all really) it's 26. I am a full 10 years older than him and frankly it's becoming more and more obvious that this fella's original 'root' message is really his only goal and the rest is just smoke and mirrors to ensure he gets what he wants.
Oh dear.....do you really think I cannot see that kid?? REALLY?!

As 'dinner' if you can call it that, comes to an end he makes a big song and dance about paying...uh oh think we have been here before...damn straight you are you asked ME out after all. We then leave and he offers to drop me off at my next venue for the night.

On the journey to the party which is only in the next suburb he proceeds to try and pash me at every available red traffic light, this would be nice if he knew how to kiss. His version involved pretty much licking my face. GROSS!
In a repeat of the incoming journey he almost runs a bunch of pedestrians over on a crossing despite me pointing and shouting 'watch the people!'
I cannot wait for him to drop me off. When he does he gets out of the car for some more face licking and asks me to call him later.

Righteo might do I say. (that's not going to happen EVER)

Needless to say I get some messages later about going to his house and staying with him. But as I wasn't interested the first time then you can bet I am not interested this time. And if I wanted my face licked I'd get a labrador.

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