I put on my sexy form fitting black wool dress and little leopard jacket on Friday night, pouted in the mirror and headed out the door. We were going to go to SPQR for dinner, but it was too crowded, so we walked down Ponsonby Rd in the cold wind until we reached GPK (all these letters!).
I already knew I wasn't initially attracted to The Englishman, but because love or lust can sometimes be sparked by a good conversation or a mutual love of Tru Blood, I kept my mind open. He was wearing some sort of puffy jacket, as if he might nip into the bush for a walk, and his face contorted with the intensity of whatever story he was telling.
He was a genuinely interesting guy, and generous, taking me out for a lovely dinner (feed me Seymour, feed me!). It was the shouty agressive stories he told that made me question our compatibility. He'd been a marine and now worked in marketing, and over our first drink he told me about his ex wives, his children and moving to New Zealand. He was really wired. He told me about the time his father hit his mother and how he'd wrung his dad by the neck and threatened to kill him if he laid a finger on his mother again. He reached out and almost grabbed my neck as he described it, his eyes wild with anger at the past memory, his voice raised, the 'fucks' coming thick and fast.
I became uncharacteristically quiet, but I liked his open-ness and appreciated what it must be like for other people when I'm telling a really intense story and bring too much of that energy into the currrent moment. It's kind of scary.
We sat down and looked at the menu. Mmm. I ordered pork belly and a second glass of The Ned pinot gris which was delicious! He had steak, and when it came he was really pissed off that some sort of sauce that came with it was cold.
"It's freezing cold!" he moaned.
"Ask them to heat it up" I suggested warmly.
He gestured to the waiter in an irritated fashion.
"This sauce is FREEZING COLD" he barked at him.
"Oh, I can heat that up for you," said the waiter, and a slight look of complicity passed between us, the look that says "yes, this guy is being a bit rude, but what can you do?". I smiled in apology.
I gently touched The Englishman's arm after the waiter walked away with the 'freezing sauce'.
"Be nice to the waiters" I laughed.
"I AM being nice," he said, "but if you pay for something it should be what you expect".
"Yes of course," I said, "but the waiter can't help it, he didn't make it. Haven't you ever been a waiter?"
"No," he sneered with a smile, "I've never sunk that low!"
"Oh," I smiled back patiently, "I have, and even lower than that."
"Ah, I was just joking!" he said.
What a funny guy.
He regaled me with a violent account of fighting someone and throwing each other into barbed wire, he leaned forward into my face to tell me how he held the guy up, covered in blood and said "and so how do YOU like the razor wire?". Ripped to shreds he was. Yeah, that'll teach im.
Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, I didn't really mind much of this. I didn't feel deeply offended. I kept watching for the moments of gentleness he would display, but when he referred to his daughter as currently behaving 'like a bitch', I thought this might not be the match I was seeking.
The more hyper and intense he became, the calmer and kinder I felt. I listened and sometimes got a few words in, which, if you know how much I usually talk, is kind of amazing. I felt relaxed, even though it was occasionally jarring to have him yelling and swearing right into my face.
I still kissed him goodnight. He nipped my lower lip. I wondered if he'd been nervous and being all laddish as a way to disguise anxiety. It wasn't a bad kiss. He was technically fine. He texted me after the date thanking me for joining him, saying I was a very sexy lady.
I assumed he'd want to see me again and spent the next day wondering how I'd turn him down. It was the Waiter Issue that got to me most. I just don't want to spend time with people who think they're better or worse than anyone. In the meantime I met (not through internet dating) other guys who I found more interesting, kind and attractive, a reminder that one does not have to hang out with a Mad Englishman.
Fortunately he'd come to the conclusion that we weren't compatible (I've been a waitress after all, oh horrors!). It was a great relief.
A life of rolling in barbed wire and having my bottom lip bitten and bruised no longer awaits me.
Yeah, a horrid blood blister came up on the inside of my lip! What is that? Was that from him nipping my bottom lip? Gross and Ewwwww as my American friends would say. It made me feel a bit sick when I looked at it. Nippy Mad Englishman. It must be time to date a fellow New Zealander!
On another note entirely, I bought a MASSIVE phallic cactus from the Avondale markets yesterday! Tenika (yes, I'm spelling her name wrong to protect the innocent) suggested that it would ensure I get a lover with the right, er, proportions. I liked that idea.
About to go into work shortly, catching up with the young woman (we'll call her Feather as she likes feathers) who has a lot of experience in tutoring and literacy work. Having Archie's Pizza for lunch first, mmm, it's really the best pizza in New Market, if not all of Auckland.
And so another week begins, a precious Monday, cold and bright. The world is my mirror, my creation, and no matter what I see, it's all very interesting and fun!
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