The weekend started like most, ending quite pleasantly unexpectedly. Friday kicked off at Turtle Creek for C2, ending at the fudging Mandog for a little tailfeather shaking thereof. Decided I didn't want to snog anything, did some parlez-vousing with another French person, and three people tried to pick me up just based on my footwear.
Decided 'fuck it'. Hate Manhattan's, 'I'm leaving.' Well. On the way to the parking lot:
Random dude: Hello!
Peas: Um, hello.
Random: You from Joburg?
Peas: Yes, I suppose so.[Walking faster]
Random: You're amazing.
Peas: What the fuck? Dude go home. [Walking at ample speed, heels permitting]
Random: Can I ask you just one thing?
Peas: Fine, whatever. What?
Random: Will you do dinner with me?
Peas: No. Sorry. [Wonders why some random oke would ask a woman for dinner at 3:00am ]
Random: I'm not taking no for an answer. I'm a nice guy, you're a hot girl, I know it would work.
Peas: How old are you? Because I'm 26. You are clearly 17. I don't understand why I'm picking up teenagers these days, but even if you were my age, no. I'm a fuck up, I'll ruin your life somehow. Walk away, dude, walk away.
Random: I'm actually 25 thank you very much.
Peas: Not likely. But even if you were, no. Good night.
Random: Wait! How about lunch. Less hectic, next week. Come on!
Reas: Nope, sorry. Bye bye now.
Random: Stop. Here's my business card. SMS me. No pressure. Just lunch. What's your name anyway?
Peas: It's Peas. Listen dude: I'm doing you a favour here: no. You're sweet and persistent; but I'm a bitch and not available. It's just not gonna happen. Thanks. Now goodbye.
Random: [stuffs card into my hand]. SMS me.
Peas: Sure thing...[looks at card]...Mike. Whatever.
Luckily, just for one day – God gave me a break. For just a day. I think.
I was invited to a potjie-digs-do thingiemajigie yesterday. By a guy who has the same name as my domestic vermin.
Now, I was skeptical. I grabbed a bottle of pinotage and met him and my matchmaking boss at a house. I've been in touch with this individual through random emailing and a phonecall (Crusoe gives my number out willy nilly it seems), but as I walked in, suddenly yesterday...all my troubles ....seemed so far away.
He was lovely, and had the most fantastically sexy forearms I've seen before. (Forearms turn me on) Not to mention a lovely face and an exceptional bottom. And he cycles, he's a cyclist! So, he was really quite...delicious.
We drank a lot of red wine and stuff. Now I may never hear from him again, I'm kind of expecting not to – but luckily, I'm cynical and fucked up enough to be happy if that's the way it turns out. It was just nice to find someone attractive again, someone demure and random (yay! He's not in my circle of friends, so no accidental awkwardness!)
So whatever the drill – yesterday I managed to a) actually smile and crack a laugh or two b) not cry, c) have a lovely afternoon with a hot individual.
Please let's bear in mind that I have a cold sore under my nose, so just based on that, I don't expect him to phone me again. I mean, let's not get ahead of ourselves.
PS: I hate drinking red wine. Because after two glasses of said liquid, my mouth goes all....dark like Dracula-like. I spent two sessions in the water closet, gargling with water and rubbing my lips so that it didn't look like I'd been sucking the sanguine out of someone's jugular.
Right. And so, hoping for a better week -and because Sunday is officially the first day of the week (according to some fuckwit – who? anyway?), it's been a nice start. Even like, if I never hear from him again for as long as I live. I'm not ready to fuck up my life again by pining over something that doesn't pine over me, so like, whatever, really.
Those forearms though...