Pubis and parlance
I will restrain myself from my obvious desire to write about the gorgeous Miss Bella - although I will have to mention one quip from the vet. She had a vaccination the other day, and the vet did not win me over. During our consultation, he laughed at her and thought she was funny looking. He also accused me of trimming her whiskers and then declared that she was "a little overweight". He, ungraciously, pointed out where her fat was accumulating. I can tell you that no woman likes her fat pointed out, but when he started poking her pudenda, and declaring it fat - I took offence. A fat stomach is one thing, but what is she meant to do about a fat pubic mound? No crunches will flatten that out!
Anyway, off the kitty for a bit now. On to my last date that I had with a boy. I had coffee with this boy a week or so ago, as a means of determining whether or not I should see him again for an actual meal. After coffee, where he insulted my choice of coffee, while he had juice (!), I thought that I would rather not see him. But two days later, he rang to ask me to dinner, I accepted. God knows why I accepted his invitation. Too gutless to say no I suppose. So, we come to the date night.
Much to my chagrin, I agreed also to meet at his place, and go from there to dinner. So I climbed into his very sensible car, and we began to go. He then apologised and said that he had to quickly pop by his mothers place to fix something for her. A short digression, and then straight on to dinner. So I sat in the car, while he attended to his mother - WHO LIVES AROUND THE CORNER FROM HIM! Strike One.
He parked the car and we began making our way up and down Acland Street, looking for somewhere for dinner. This informal nature or trying to find somewhere for dinner on a Friday night is ok with friends, but annoys greatly on a date. It was whilst walking that I noted his very 80's brown leather deck shoes. Strike Two.
We sat and ordered dinner. At this point, he declared that he had been out for a big lunch, and wasn't even that hungry. NOTE TO ALL MEN: If you know you are going on a date that evening - DO NOT LARD UP AT LUNCH AND THEN MAKE YOUR DATE FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WHILE SHE WANTS TO EAT SOMETHING!
So, I ate my food, while he sat there and made banal conversation, seeming to care little for my responses or thoughts. When finally I was able to contribute to the conversation, I unleashed my witty best. I pulled out good comedic form, to watch it whither, when following a particularly witty riposte, he paused, contemplated, and then laughed. Everyone knows that comedy is often about timing, so watching his countenance mull over my comment before laughing, tarnished my otherwise sparkling repertoire. Strike Three......
But at the end of the night, did I say, "thanks, but no thanks"? Of course not. Neither did I promise future engagements. What did I do? I said nothing except, "Thanks", and avoided his follow-up phone calls. Not very balls-y or feminist of me, but baby steps people... baby steps!