21 April, 2010

The Man's Man

Meet the Man's Man. He's tall, good looking, well dressed.

MM asked me to meet him at a bar I'd never heard of in town (this is something of a rarity, as I'm no doubt a borderline alcoholic these days). When I finally found it, it was closed. But happily, MM turned up, and we wandered down the street, a little awkwardly, to a very posh restaurant. I won't name it here. Let's just call it Grossi Florentini.

Anyway, we sit down at an outside table (it was a rather balmy night), and MM says "Oh do you mind if I go say hello to some friends of mine?" Which frankly, was a little odd, but what the hey. So off he goes.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm still waiting.

Finally, he returns, and says "Oh my god, your eyes are so beautiful. I could drown in them," which made a little bit of sick come up into my mouth. He launches into a story about himself. This was followed immediately, by another story about himself. I listened to several stories about him, before he said, "so, you know what I'm really good at?" I could hardly imagine. Not reading body language, or taking breath. "Do tell," I said. "Survival. I'm really good at survival. I've done a survival course. If I was lost in the bush for three weeks, I could survive. I'd just cut the head off a snake and eat it raw."

Some skill that.

But it turns out, that survival wasn't MM's only talent. Oh no, he had another one too.

Samurai Sword Fighting.

Seriously. He was really good at Samurai Sword Fighting. He demonstrated this with two spoons on the table. He showed me exactly how one spoon got the advantage over the other spoon. Apparently, it's all in the hip.

MM finally asked me a question. It was this:

"So, why did you choose to date me?"

Which is kind of code for, "enough about me, what do you think of me?" clearly fishing for compliments. I paused for a second, and said "your reading list. You read some really intelligent books." He said, "Oh, I just copied that from some girl's profile. I haven't read any of those."

My jaw dropped. I seriously considered getting up and walking away. It must have shown on my face (my face just gives away everything. It's one of the primary reasons why I'm so crap at poker, that and the fact that I'm just crap at it), because he quickly followed up with "oh, don't worry, I do read. "

Very suddenly, and somewhat to my relief, the heavens opened, I listened to several more stories about him (how his house is in Urban Magazine because it's so fantastic, how he used to work in radio (selling ad space), how he's developing six properties in Preston, how ... oh you get the picture), before the bill arrived. We payed it. I literally threw the money at him from my wallet, then, without a kiss, without even a fond wave, said "well, that's that. Goodbye!" and availed myself of a very convenient taxi that had just pulled up next to me.

When I got home, I had to wear my "It's all about me" pyjamas to realign my ego, and watch a horror movie to cheer myself up.