White

If I had to describe the past 5 days of my life in one sentence, this would be it - It has been absolute wank.

Now I know I've just returned from holiday and technically I should be all zen and one with the universe all that other bollocks. Don't get me wrong. In many ways, I am totally zen and chilled out. The trip achieved what it had to. I've got some new perspectives, my body and brain are renewed and refreshed and I've come to some pertinent realizations. Alas, the journey back home from Madrid via Dubai was a mission in itself. Nightmare does not begin to describe it. Let's just say that I screamed at customs officials, got my flight totally messed up, did not sleep for 24 hours and came awfully close to being thrown into a middle-eastern jail.

The reason for my current disgruntled state can be attributed to one person and one person alone. Up until last weekend, everything with AJ was fine and dandy. We were talking regularly, keeping in touch via text, email and other modern technological conveniences. That was until we had a Skype conversation on Sunday afternoon whilst I was in Barcelona.

Considering that I had been running around Europe like a teenager on smack, I was at the point where I was getting physically tired, missing home and getting frustrated with my travel mate. I managed to get hold of AJ on Skype on Sunday and we had a little chat about well, not much really. It was just the general banter, 'What have you been up to? How are you feeling? What's the plan for the coming week etc.'

The convo turned out to be a double-edged sword. I was well cranky and being a little bitch (no point hiding anything here). And he was hungover and nursing a badly sprained ankle after bringing the dog out for a walk at 4:30am the previous night with one too many jaeger bombs in his system, resulting in him going over his ankle and basically fucking it.

Now common sense should tell you that two people of the above description should probably not engage in any sort of conversation as it would probably result in some sort of disaster regardless of how amicable their relationship may be. Guess what? It was an absolute bloody disaster indeed.

Without having to go too much into detail, let me just summarize by saying that the conversation did not go well and ended rather abruptly. After both parties had logged off, I sat and stared at the screen for a considerable period of time and then came to the conclusion that I had acted like a complete twat and was well out of order with some of the things I had said and proceeded to send a text to AJ apologizing for my abjectly stupid behaviour during the convo.

I got no response. Until about 12 hours later...

When I saw his reply, I was slightly miffed. I did not deign to respond immediately. Firstly I was running to catch my train to Granada from the Madrid terminal and secondly, the tone of the text put me on edge. Given that I was still in a semi-vicious mood, I decided it was best to leave it lest I replied with something snarky and have the whole situation go pear-shaped.

En route to Granada, I observed a man on the train. I was highly fascinated by his hair and his left hand. That was all I could see. Curious to know whether his facial appearance would do justice to what appeared to be pretty awesome hair and left hand, I waited till the train reached my destination before I got a proper look at his face. Boy was I disappointed. Upon checking into my hotel, I proceeded to post a cheeky FB status update regarding Carlos (yes, that was his name, gleaned from his laptop screen, from which he was emailing throughout the ride). Little did I know that my little tongue-in-cheek update would be misconstrued in the most magnificently idiotic manner possible by the ONE person who should have known better.

It was AJ's birthday on Tuesday. I sent him at text from Europe wishing him at midnight back home. Again, I got no response. In that text I said I would ring him once I was up in the morning.

The next morning, as I excitedly prepared to call AJ whilst my travel mate was in the shower, I saw a FB message from him that stopped me dead in my tracks. Without having to explain everything, here are excerpts of that message that left me thoroughly bewildered.

From AJ:

Hey hun!

Thanks for the text message...! I was a little suprised by it if I'm honest so all good...

Well yes, I apologise for not writing yesterday, I thought it best to grab a bit of breathing space... As I've been having a marvellously grand headfuck since sunday, and I can tell you something similar over the last few days...

Also, to make matters more fun, I've got to work this weekend, and also have family passing thru...
But basically, I doubt that were gonna be able to catch up until next week, which is a bit of a pain....

Sorry for being negative in this!! I've tried to keep as positive as possible for a while now!!! And timing of visitors I know is a complete pain!!

Also, I'm not sure of your rationale behind the carlos status update thing.... As you say to me, you work in pr so if there is an undertone of some sort their, then fair enough.....

Anyways, have fun and catch you soon

X

Oh great. What the fuck is all that about?

Firstly, why should you be surprised that I sent you a HB text? We ARE dating after all. Did something change along the way and people you date aren't meant to wish you on your birthday?

Secondly, it's amazing how your family and friends decide to pass through on the weekend when I am due back in the country...the very same weekend you specifically wanted to spend with me.

Thirdly, what on earth are you trying to keep positive about? And why the hell are you headfucked?

Fourthly, you're bothered about the Carlos update? Are you for real???

Reading that message (I didn't post all of it here), left me in a bit of a shock. My first reaction was to get extremely upset. I put my phone down and made the immediate decision to NOT ring him as planned. Thereafter I drafted a response to that highly aggravating message and sent it. My reply was in no way impolite. It merely acknowledged his weekend plans and provided an explanation to the ludicrous Carlos update.

Again, I had to wait 24 hours for a reply. Well, considering it was his birthday that day, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Came his reply: (Cue more aggravation)


Erm.....

well if i'm honest that response was a bit unexpected in its tone and what it says! No need to apologise... its ok.... But theres not much I can say off the back of the above either....

Really. REAAAALLLY? How the hell does one react to this without wanting to scream?

Annoyed with all this wishy-washyness, I decided to grab the bull by the horns.

From me:
Ok...

Unexpected? Sorry I think your email was unexpected. Please explain the following:

1. Why were you headfucked? (I don't care if I'm on bloody holiday. It's been bothering me for the past 24 hours.)

2. Why in the world would you think the Carlos post meant anything at all?

3. Why was my text to you saying HB such a surprise?

Got to run. But I'd really appreciate those answers. X


He didn't make me wait overnight this time. I got a reply within 8 hours. Alas, it didn't help soothe my ruffled feathers at all.

From AJ:
Don't take this the wrong way, and I really don't want you to think I'm a twat!! That is the last thing I would want.... But I don't really want to explain that in detail over an email.. as it would take an age and its also probably best if I actually talked that through with you face to face... As there are a few reasons... I have re-read a lot of our email exchange and also contemplated a fuck load over the last few days.... which has kind of altered my mindset a lot... which is shit I know... a lot of it has to do with me, and maybe you are right about certain things, and a little with you, which again I would rather talk through than email about...

Blah...blah...blah...blah...blah...

Safe journey hun both around Madrid and also home.... I don't expect a response to this email, so don't worry about that... But yeah we do need to have what will no doubt be a rubbish talk next week.... If I don't hear from you I'll drop you a text over the weekend to check if your alive and made it back safe...

:(

I sent one last response after that message. Thereafter, I got no replies. He did send me a couple of texts when he found out I was stranded and livid in Dubai thanks my epic rant on FB. I got home eventually and spent the weekend pretty much on my own with a bottle of whiskey, a pack of cigarettes, my thoughts, a few tears and my bed. (It had to be done.) All that time, I didn't hear a peep from the feller.

Went in to work today, still none the wiser about the ongoing idiocy and decided that I should just focus on work when suddenly my phone went off around lunchtime.



Why am I so civil? WHY???




I didn't bother replying to that last message. I was too peeved off and secondly, I didn't quite know how to react without screaming at him like a banshee. Seriously, you ignore me the whole weekend and then suddenly pop up like a finger up the arse and pretend all is well between us with seemingly "normal" conversation?

Was he not the one who said that we NEED TO TALK??? So if that is the case, then why are you acting like you cannot see the giant mammoth staring us both in the face in the same room???

Can someone tell me why this man is being such a pain? Don't get me wrong. I like him. I like him a lot. Going out with him is like going out with myself only he's more insane in varying degrees but for the first time in a long time I've met someone who is willing to sit down and be frank with me and treat me like a human without being condescending. And into that nice little scenario, he has thrown one hell of a monkey wrench making me wonder how one fucking Skype conversation can result in the man thinking, changing his mind and suddenly feeling the need to discuss 'us'. It's like the electricity suddenly came back on after the power tripped.

I've been given differing opinions about the situation with the few people that I have discussed this with. The general sentiment is that yes, the both of you need to sit down and talk and find out what the hell is going on with all of this rubbish. However, I am highly inclined to believe this 'talk' is going to end up being another episode of 'I'm sorry babe, but I don't know what I want and I think we should stop seeing each other.' If that is indeed the reality of it, then fine. I will deal with that graciously because at least he has the balls to tell me to my face and be polite about it. On the other hand, if it is not the case and he really just needs to air some issues out, there's no guarantee that I will not be the on who throws the towel in. The thought has crossed my mind already and I have given it some serious thought.

The truth is, I want to go out with someone who doesn't do my head in. And this is fucking my head up a bit too much for my liking.

I've got to keep it simple.

Greetings from Planet Weird

And so I've been getting back up on the dating horse. Yeah, that's my problem. I just don't give up or die easily. I learnt that from the roaches. No, it's more like me thinking, "Sod the bullshit that happened last year, I need to get on with my life because I'm not getting any younger and my Mum is driving me up the wall with the indirect hints to settle down and to go forth and procreate." *shudders*
Her latest attempt at not-so-subliminal messaging came in the form of an early birthday present. I was monging on the sofa after a bizarre weekend involving sick amounts of alcohol and basically doing my "I will not talk to humans today" therapy session when she gaily appeared in front of me swinging a gift bag.

Me: (On the sofa doing my best impersonation of a lounge lizard)
Mum: Look! I got your birthday present already! *brandishes bag with gift*
Me: Huh? Wa...? What?
Mum: I didn't know what to buy you.
Me: Err... Okay, thanks Mum. (But my birthday is 15 days away?!)

Being generally impatient and also generally curious I decided to open my present. Oooh Crabtree and Evelyn. Cool. As if I don't already have a million other unopened, unused body products that are guaranteed to render me smelling like some tropical fruit, exotic valley flower or a cake. Really, I have no reason to not ever smell nice. And that is a fact.

But there was more! Nestled deep inside the wrapping were... two (count 'em), TWO packets of red packets or if one were to be local about it, ang paos.

I stared at the packets. I scratched my head. I stared at the packets some more. And then I went, "WHAT THE FUCK?" Yes, I'm mostly an eloquent creature.

Now we all know that singles do not give out red packets during Chinese New Year. On the contrary, singles are meant to RECEIVE them. Considering that I am a) not attached, b) not brought a boyfriend home in recent times, c) definitely not married, I should thereby, according to simple logic, fall into the 'single and doomed' category of people that all relatives love to torment during CNY festivities. Hence, having dear old Mum give me TWO packs of red packets to utilize when she knows full well that I am not in the position to give any was nothing short of bizarre. The only logical conclusion that could be drawn from all this was the fact that she was trying very subtly to tell me that it was time for me to settle down and be in an ang pao-giving position as opposed to being on the receiving end. Very subtle indeed. About as subtle as a mammoth erection on a bloody cold day.

Now I am all for settling down. The minor or should I say mega problem is that finding the right person to have a relationship with is about as easy as memorizing a book on tax law overnight. Let's not get so ahead of ourselves shall we? I can't even find someone decent to date so fuck the relationship aspect for now.

After splitting up with Spooner, I have met 4 new people. One was hopeless from the get-go. Vegan, angsty and borderline cuckoo. Nevermind. Next. Second one was fresh out of a long-term relationship and clearly unsure of what he wanted. Pity, because he was a nice feller who still happened to have his head still stuck up his ex's skirt.

The third one, who shall henceforth be named Nik showed some potential until our second date last Friday which turned out to be something that seemed like a page out of a comic book. Firstly, Nik is a ridiculous Star Wars fan. I will leave you to imagine the level of ridicule that I am referring to but let's just say that I am not using the word 'ridiculous' here loosely. It seemed like a normal night right up until the point where he went to the bathroom and disappeared.

Yes, Darth Vader Nik did a Harry Houdini and vanished into thin air or carpark (as he claims to have done).

Mind you, we both had been drinking a fair bit throughout the night and I was also battling fatigue in the worst way having had a late night the day before as well. So imagine my horror when the man did not return to our drinking locale and sent me a What'sApp message that went, "Sorry to have bored you. Think I got the message. :("

I think my brain got stuck at 3:30 in the morning at that point because I was like, "What the hell does that mean? And secondly, where the hell did he go?"

Turns out he never came back. Yes, the man pulled an ESCAPE.

Some furious messaging ensued but it turned out that the feller had jumped into a cab and gone home. I was left having to pick my jaw off the ground and made my way back home.

The next morning I sent him a message asking what the hell had gone wrong to have the previous night's events unfold as they had done. He claimed to have truly gotten lost en route to the little boy's room and had stumbled into the carpark and had no idea how to get back out. This explanation also came between a few lines of "I am sorry to have bored you, maybe I was talking too much and you seemed so 'cold''".

Cold?

Cold??

Cold?!?!???!

I'm sorry, but WHAT the hell was I supposed to be at 3:30 on a Friday night after a day at work dealing with a massive hangover from the night before? Were you expecting me to PEEL your prawns for you? Give you a back rub? Oh, were you really thinking I'd snog you if you plied me with enough drinks? Well too bad, I can hold my drink. Really well.

So needless to say, that is the end of Nik. I'm nipping this one in the bud. There's just no way I'm going out with someone who is most likely going to yell, "THE FORCE IS WITH ME!" at the point of orgasm.

Sigh.

I spent most of Saturday recovering from the previous night's traumatic experience. This involved sleeping the whole day. At night, I went out on a date with a new person who I shall christen 1Day.

Thus far 1Day seems to be sort of normal. I say sort of because he told me how his last relationship ended and it was like his ex-girlfiend was Linda Blair from The Exorcist because what she did to him seems to indicate that the woman is certifiably insane or possessed or both.

In any case, I am also a little wary of people who have had particularly bad relationships in the past because my last serious boyfriend was just like that and boy did he have confidence issues that rocked our relationship like hell. I'm not saying that everyone who dates a madwoman (or three), will end up being a complete basketcase but the chances of the person getting paranoid, insecure and possessive over the next person that they go out with increases significantly. And I could well do without all that weird-ass drama.

Hence things with 1Day will be taken very slowly. We'll just stick to a couple of text messages and the odd date for now.

Now, can someone please tell my Mum that I'm single not from the lack of trying but simply because I seem to have a penchant for picking specimens that fall straight out of Planet Weird?

Normal! That's all I'm asking/begging/pleading for!

Because People Maketh the Man

And so I met Spooner's friends over the recent long weekend. It's not the first time though. The first time was during a touch rugby match on the beach where I was tackled headlong by a full-grown man barreling into me at about 5 kilometers per hour. Note to my female readers - DO NOT LET THAT HAPPEN TO YOU. I felt like I had been hit by a concrete wall and I'm surprised I didn't break a rib.

Last weekend was little less physically intense. Well not really, considering I drank about 10 bottles of Heineken over a 5 hour period and I felt like dying the next morning. But the night in itself was not all that bad. The rendevous point was KPO and the drinks just kept coming. It was interesting to see Spooner in a social situation and it was quite nerve wracking for me to sit there and partake in conversations with a few people that I had never met before. I can only hope that I made a positive impression. You know how it gets when you've been drinking. Tongues get looser as people become more relaxed. Things you normally wouldn't say in a different situation come flying out of people's mouths and you don't really reflect on what they're saying until your hangover has properly worn off about 3 days later. :P

Being the only female in the entire group was pretty pressurizing. And there was also the fact that a couple of guys present didn't say a single word to me throughout the whole night. I pondered this quite a bit and could only draw two conclusions: a) they did not know what to say to me (I suppose the pressure works both ways), and b) they just simply did not like me. In the event that the latter reason is true, I refuse to be disheartened. I mean, how can you decide whether you like someone if you pretend to be mute the whole time? Personally, I am not one for snap judgments and I usually don't have people 'disliking' me for no reason. Yes, there have been a few but then again, those folks are insane. (Disclaimer: If you're one of those 'I make my mind up in 20 seconds' kinds, please stop reading and go away. Thankyouverymuch.)

Overall the friends proved to be an interesting bunch. Journalists, traders, insurance people, all sorts. My thoughts on this are quite positive. After all, if all his friends came from the same industry, then all the conversations would be monopolized by work and what the hell would I (or most people), know about marine underwriting? Hence, the diversity proved to be a good thing because it meant a range of topics could be discussed and different opinions could be expressed. Furthermore, it gave me some insight into Spooner's randomness. The man has thrown me off guard on several occasions and I've found myself knitting my eyebrows in bewilderment at some of the things that fly out of his mouth. Having hung out with the friends I suppose I have come to a semi-conclusion that it was probably wrong of me to try and fit him into a mould. Yes, most of us fall into one category or type of person but I don't know him well enough to stick a label on him just yet. But it is nice to sort of understand what sort of person he is. And believe me, you can tell a lot about a person from the friends they keep.

However here comes the quandary as I am now wondering how soon or is it still too soon for him to meet my friends. I suppose in these foreign dating situations, one is expected to reciprocate actions to a certain degree. Alas, I am also quite aware that most of my friends are in no hurry to do the 'meet the mates' thing. After all, it's only been a mere five weeks now. Besides, I can hardly say that I know the guy well enough because everytime we hang out I find out something new about him. For example, he has a weird obsession with drinking tons of water. He says it's because he dehydrates easily. I say it's more about him trying to avoid grabbing a beer or a Coke from the fridge each time he is thirsty.

In any case he has asked me to go his friend's birthday party with him next weekend. I suppose it will be another chance to meet more of his friends. The weekend after I will be in Bali with my erstwhile friends (woohoo!) so that's a little bit of time off from him and his entourage which could prove to be a valuable opportunity to sit and think about things. And maybe, just maybe I might consider letting him meet some people from my social circle after that trip. But I refuse to get ahead of myself. Let me live out the next couple of weeks before I make any decisions.

Okay, I shall now attempt to go something productive...like create a massive deliverable list. How bloody exciting.

Grassy Moments

I guess I owe you the details of date number two (and three) with Spooner. :)

Date number two was far more interesting than the first. He had asked me out on Saturday afternoon to go out for dinner that night. I agreed considering I had no plans and I did want to see him again. Weird part was that he asked me to pick him up. Like hello, I have no car or motorcycle. No bicycle even. But considering that we were heading to Dempsey and he lives close by, I decided to put my narrow-minded perceptions aside and went to pick him up in a cab.

Can I just say, that office clothes do nothing for that man? He was decked in a blue polo t-shirt, jeans and sneakers on Saturday and had changed his glasses. He looked like Clark Kent. I think the taxi driver heard the sharp intake of breath I took in as my brain registered the shoulders, the long torso, the legs, the whole damn package and thought, "Shit. He's hot."

We headed to Dempsey. I was a retarded bundle of nerves. Got to our location and ordered our drinks. Sapporo and Asahi kept us company at the Tippling Club as I fought to remain intelligent and witty. I am going to admit that my hormones were getting the better of me that night because I had no greater desire than to lunge across the table and rip his shirt off. The man was proving to be well-read, smart and funny. He asked questions. He listened. We bantered, we discoursed, we laughed at each other. And he was really nice to the service staff. Plus, did I mention that he's hot? What to do? I sat on my hands. Yes, I was that mind-fucked.

Five drinks and some bar snacks later (Recommendation: try the duck sausage!), we decided that we needed a change of scenery and went off to Blue Jazz near Haji Lane. The entire time, the man did not lay one finger on me. I was amazed and confused. 'Am I so repulsive that he always has to keep an arm's length away from me?' or 'Maybe he's gay...' were taking turns to run through my befuddled brain.

We got to our second destination and went up to the second floor. The man is into rap and hip-hop and fortunately, the second floor of the Blue Jazz place is dedicated to that genre so he was quite happy about it. He ordered the drinks. I went to the bathroom and came back and found him on a sofa. I sat across him. He moved to the stool next to me and then eventually asked me to sit next to him. (Finally!) And then came the clincher. He leaned over to ask, "Is it okay if I put my arm around you?"

I almost exploded with laughter. I know most people are generally polite, but this man was taking it to another level altogether. And the other thought was, "He's not gay! Woohoo!"

So we sat there, smoked our cigarettes, bopped to the music and chilled out. Made a new friend with a Thai guy who needed a lighter. All good fun. Went home plastered at 3:30 and crashed in our own beds.

Now I am too lazy to type so I am going to put a screenshot up.



So we hung out on Sunday at East Coast in the afternoon. Nothing fancy. He had to eat after his football match so we had a late meal and then we proceeded to both lie down on the grass and fall asleep for a while.

It was just so nice. To just lie there on my back, be quiet, stare at the trees and the sky through my sunglasses. No pressure from the guy lying next to me who was equally silent. I stared up into the sky wondering when was the last time I was that relaxed. I couldn't find an answer to that and let me assure you, it had nothing to do with Spooner being next to me. Yes, he was still as yummy as the night before but we were both in our own mental zones and there was no frantic need to make smart conversation. When we did talk, it was just about what people around us were doing - the Malay family spending a day a the beach waiting to break their fast at sunset, the kids flying kites and playing frisbee on the sand, and the couples sitting on the breakwater in front. I think I finally figured out the meaning of shooting the breeze.

Sunday ended with a milkshake from Once Upon a Milkshake (OUAM). I am in lurrrve...with their chocolate truffle shake which is sinful and diabetes-inducing but so, so, sooooo good.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is dates number two and three with Spooner. And if you're wondering whether he has kissed me yet, well, I'm not saying anything for now. :)

Meet the Meat - Post Mortem

He looks a bit like this...



Before you get your panties all sweaty, let me clarify that though there is a resemblance to Hugh Laurie - blue eyes, dark hair, expressive mouth - he is not an exact replica. But he doesn't look like a complete oaf either which in my books is a huge plus.

As planned, I turned up early at the date venue and battled with my nerves with a Heineken and game after game of Scrabble on my iPhone. (Yes, I am such a geek.) Needless to say, it was quite embarrassing when Spooner finally arrived and went, "Hello Scrabble girl."

Date proceeded with round after round of beer and way too many cigarettes. Conversation was easy. Talked about family backgrounds, work, getting hit on by people of the same gender. Funniest topic of the night was music.

Me: So what's your favourite band, if you have one?
Spooner: Uhm, I'm not into mainstream stuff. Actually, I don't listen to what most people listen to.
Me: Er...okay. So what, you listen to trance? (Was holding my breath at this point, ready to jump into the river if he said yes.)
Spooner: I know it's weird because I'm English but I really like to listen to...rap.
Me: Huh? Like Kanye West? (Seriously, what the fuck would I know about rap? Aside from the fact that it rhymes with map and tap and they sing about women sitting on their laps... uh, anyway...)
Spooner: Well, grittier than Kanye. Serious hip hop and rap.
Me: Oh wow. I listen to indie bands. The only so-called rap I listen to is Kanye. Listened to 2Pac a long time ago but that's about it. (Talk about clutching at straws. Way to go babe! *facepalm*)
Spooner: Ah, it could have been much worse. I'm glad you didn't say 50-cent.
Me: (!!!!)

Okay, so he has a cheeky sense of humour. Yay!
I am not used to seeing men who are tremendously animated when they speak. Spooner has a variety of facial expressions and uses his hands a lot when he's talking about something. I have this pre-conceived notion that Englishmen are all stiff upper lip and about as expressive as a brick. Well, that got shot to hell. In fact, I found myself moving my beer bottle further and further away from Spooner because I was afraid he'd knock it over. At times it felt like I was sitting across a hyperactive beagle.

I regret to say that I did not get the opportunity to perv at Spooner's butt. Sorry, it was just too dark. I did notice one thing though. He has very small teeth. Weird observation I know, but he was laughing at something and all I could register was, "Such small teeth!" (I agree. Totally WTF.)

So, overall it was a good first meeting. I know you're dying to know if I will go out with him again but I am going to ponder that over lunch and when I make up my mind, I'll let you know. ;)

Hungry, hungry, hippo... I need some grease.

Meet the Meat

I have a date tonight.

This is a date date. Hanging out with male friends, my brother or male colleagues does not qualify as a date. I am meeting a new person, who is not part of my social circle and worse, have not met previously. So this is in essence, some weird version of a blind date.

Date in question shall henceforth be referred to as Spooner. Before you get any weird ideas, Spooner is a nickname he had been previously bestowed with by his soccer buddies for the ability to 'spoon' the ball over the crossbar instead of into the goal. Doesn't speak much of his goal-scoring abilities but well, that's not really of much concern to me. But since he plays footie regularly, I am going to check his ass out. (I have a this theory that all soccer players have nice butts. So far,I have to yet to be proven wrong.)

Apart from my intention to do some top perving, I am horribly nervous. Yes, I know you're raising your eyebrows going, "Whaaaat? You? Nervous? Pffft." Truth is, I am. Despite having skin like buffalo hide, I am capable of suffering from the odd bout of nerves. Weirdly enough, the logical part of my brain tells me that I should have no reason to be jittery because I am quite capable of holding my own in most situations. Okay, so I don't look like the female version of Frankenstein's monster. Good. And I can make conversation with a bunch of cacti if I had to. Bonus! And Spooner has not met me in person before so technically there should not be any prior expectations that I need to surpass. Therefore, I should go there with an open mind, minimal expectations (whoever says there are no expectations is a fucktard), and be my usual, charming and witty self. I kept the slightly insane part of me on the shelf at home today. Clever me.

It's probably a good thing that I freak out over this now instead of freaking out later. I am going to intentionally turn up 20 minutes earlier than the set meeting time at the rendevous point, order meself a nice cold Heineken and pour it down my throat before Spooner arrives so that I won't be a total basket case. Plus it will give me a chance to mentally prepare a list of possible things to chat about. Bloody hell, I sound like I am preparing for an interview!

The last time I went on a proper date I ended up in a 3.5 year long relationship with that person. That date started with lunch on a weekend and ended two days later. Needless to say I don't want that to happen again, at least not in the near future. Call me paranoid and I won't blame you because I am.

So Spooner and I have been communicating via email over a couple of weeks. Between the first email and latest one, there has been more than 80 mails flying back and forth. I have no idea if that's a good thing because we could end up having nothing to talk about later. On the other hand, it has been established that like me, he is the eldest of two children, has a younger brother that gets on his nerves, and is a DVD junkie. Other random bits of information - 1.8 metres tall, plays football, is a marine underwriter and gets hit on by gay men regularly. I am not quite sure what to make of the last part. Far be it from me to judge considering the number of times I have been hit on by lesbians. (Don't ask.)

Regardless of how tonight turns out, I suppose I have something to get out of the experience. I have to slowly start re-initiating myself into society by learning how to interact with new people again. I am not saying that this can only can be accomplished through serial dating. Of course I can meet new people by picking up a new hobby (not knitting), like uhm... joining a Alcoholics Anonymous group but I'll save that for after I get sick of being part of the 'Singles Meat Pool'.

In the meantime, wish me luck and I'll post-mortem the date tomorrow. (Yes, I know you people are damn kaypoh!)

Date Munster

There's a million ways to scare a woman off. Here's just one out of that million.