On Friday evening I had an event with my dating service. This dinner took up "two function credits" and the email that accompanied the invitation read "if last year is anything to go by, you will definitely not want to miss this dinner".
I knew that my exams would be over so I booked. This was the perfect opportunity to 'scout' for some new dates and check out the other girls with whom I would be 'competing' with.
The event was hosted in the upmarket French restaurant, Brasserie de Paris, in Waterkloof, Pretoria.
I was quite nervous as one would expect. Well, I am a INFJ personality according to the Myers-Briggs personality test - I do not like small talk. That and the fact that the dress code was "smart/cocktail". Thank goodness that my best friend is a stylist.
Dressed in knee high boots, stockings and a cocktail dress with my hair curled I set out.
I walked into the room and was immediately greeted by the lady from the dating service. She escorted me to my seat on a long table (thank goodness) where I found my name tag. Que the stares...
I was overdressed. The girls were giving me the death stare. Joy. So, I put on my nicest smile and introduced myself to the two girls in front of me first. The first I'll call Dancing Queen. Dancing Queen, aged 32, owns her own dance studio where she teaches modern dance. Blond hair, pretty face, distracting blue eye shadow and lipstick on her front tooth. She had a dress on too, but so casual compared to me.
The other girl... I'll call her Economist girl, aged 29. This was bad. Black pants, a over sized black jersey, hair pulled back into a pony tail, no make-up. She also had a choker on - I last saw one in primary school. I barely caught her name and occupation as she spoke at about the same level that a butterfly flaps its wings.
Then I turned to my right to introduce myself to Machine guy. Machine guy, 34, is so called because he works with machines or is the mechanic on bomb defusing vehicles. Pretty cool, I thought.
The guy to my left then interrupted and introduced himself. This dude was LOUD! I told him that I recognized him from somewhere but I could not place him yet. I'll call him Familiar Face. He works as a manager for entertainment companies. 43, divorced, two kids.
Right, so by now about 5 minutes have passed and as I turn back to Machine Guy I hear the question: "What do you prefer, bad sex or no sex?" The question is posed at the whole of the table by none other than Familiar Face. I chuckle and then add "Boom!" (with hand gestures) after which I had all eyes fixed on me. I don't know whether the people were staring at me because they never saw an animated "Boom!" or they just wanted my answer so I said "Bad sex".
Thank goodness that they guy sitting opposite me entered the room at that exact moment as eyes now drifted an followed him to his seat between Dancing Queen and Economist Girl. I'll call him Mr. Manager as he is manages money or works in accounting (something like that). Mr. Manager is 33 years old and divorced, no kids.
After his introduction we went around again and the 6 of us repeated a quick intro. Familiar Face then asked Dancing Queen if she would dance on the tables a bit later. Awkward.
A chef came to introduce the menu which made my stomach turn. A starter of onion soup (and I don't eat onions) and warm Apple Pie for desert (I don't eat warm apples). Joy. I ordered the fillet for the main and an Appletizer. Immediately I was asked why I wasn't having the wine and at least I could reply that I was driving to Cape Town later that evening. Yeah! Problem averted.
The conversation was now mainly picked up by Mr. Manager and Economist Girl who talked some business and Dancing Queen and Machine Guy joked with each other over the table. I tried to get in a word here or there, but I struggled. So, I turned to Familiar Face but he was now engaged in conversation with his part of the table (which was clearly more suited to his age). Allow me to present the table placements in more detail.
Please excuse my children's art illustrations... I'm writing this on my Ipad and drew this with a cold finger... Anyway, the table was mostly made up of old people... No offense to old people, but I was the youngest in the "young section" and I'm pretty sure I saw some crutches at the opposite side of the table.
Okay, so I was sitting there, turning back to the younger section waiting for a moment to get in a word when Mr. Manager said "You are awfully quiet over there".
Quick note: I am one of those people who becomes more pissed off if you tell me that I look down, angry or that I should smile and stop acting so rude. Same thing happens when you tell me that I'm being quiet. I become even more quiet. Determined however to not be thrown off by his statement I smiled, shrugged my shoulders and the next sentence Dancing Queen finished I said "Boom!". Don't ask me why, I just did. Awkward.
The starters arrived and I braved my onion soup, which I found absolutely delicious. My fellow youngsters were just finishing bottle number two of their wine when the waiters presented the next dish... Onion soup. I have no idea what I ate before. I tasted the onion soup... Ewh. I couldn't eat it. More death stares.
Machine Guy, now very chatty decided to order the R500 bottle of wine on his own account. This obviously impressed Dancing Queen as she had now focused her attention on him. Well, he had also mentioned the diamond earrings that he bought his ex-girlfriend, the fact that he drives a BMW M3 and that he travels to Europe quite often. Yup, he was throwing the 'I have money' card out there and Dancing Queen had dollar signs in her eyes.
Each of us posed a question and we went around (the 5 of us) and answered. It started off with the 'what do you do for fun' question, favorite memories, talk about parents and siblings, previous dates with the dating service, internet dating etc.
After the third bottle of wine and two rounds of shooters Dancing Girl posed this question: "What are your fetishes?" I, again, said "Boom!". You would think it was me who had finished the three bottles of wine. I hate when conversations turn sexual on a first date so I answered first and just said that I thought foot fetishes were weird and added my Ted Bundy, serial killer/foot fetish guy trivia and turned the conversation over to Mr. Manager whom I joked with and said 'You look like the serial killer type, is yours a foot fetish?'. We all laughed. Machine Guy shared in detail his 'fan fetish'. He has a chest full of fans (the kind ladies used in the old Western films) that he uses... Dancing Queen went into her pole dancing experience and when it was time for Economist Girl to answer she simply said: "Mascara". What the? None of us laughed or asked.
ALL the girls at the table (and most of the men) ordered the fish. When my fillet arrived I received more death stares.
Bottle number 4 gone and now the 'youngsters' were on a roll. Mr. Manager and Machine Guy switched places and I tried to talk with Mr. Manager and Economist Girl who had now gone from a SMS every 5 minutes to full on, non-stop texting. When Mr. Manager was mid 'this-is-my-life-story' Economist Girl started whispering in great detail the exact order of events on the day she received her degree. I felt so sorry for this girl. I don't think I have ever encountered a more socially awkward person in my life.
The conversation had died between the two lovebirds and Machine Guy leaned over the table, looked straight at me and said 'You've got the most beautiful smile'. Me: "Boom!". I had officially now overtaken Economist Girl as the most socially awkward person in the world.
So, the boys switched back and now Economist Girl had her arm around Mr. Manager's neck. Awkward. She was rubbing his leg and touching his arms. It was so weird. Machine Guy suddenly touches my hair, pulls it out of my face and again urges me to smile for him. I pull back. Awkward.
Bottle number 5 arrives and Dancing Queen has her shoes out with her legs tucked underneath her on the chair. Economist Girl is back to texting quietly in the corner and Machine Guy is starting to share the story of the second time he spent a night in jail for speeding. Yeah, criminal records make for good conversation. Then he shouts "I want to go on a coffee date with you". Economist Girl almost swallows her phone from the shock.
This made me so mad. Dancing Queen and Mr. Manager were obviously in on this too and urged her to agree saying that the two of them would make such a lovely couple. Her eyes were wild with excitement and she gave him her number. He was mocking her to her face and she was too naive to recognize it, or was she just drunk?
As yet another round of shooters arrived I excused myself. This night had sucked. I was disgusted with the sexual undertone of the conversation and the future prospects my dating service had to offer.
I'm pretty sure Dancing Queen and Mr. Manager ended up leaving together and as for Economist Girl, I really hope she got home safely. This girl probably never had more than 2 glasses of wine before and she now had a bottle and a half in. I thanked the hostess, paid my R30 tab, chuckled at the thought of the R2000 tab that was waiting for Machine Guy and left. I had better things to do with my time... like driving to Cape Town.
So two things:
DO NOT JOIN A DATING SERVICE and
Take a road trip to Cape Town
Lots of love from the beautiful Beaufort West...
Boom!
No comments:
Post a Comment