First of all, let me just say, Wow! What a weekend! A birthday party, a burlesque Hallowe’en party, a “Bollyween” party, a “Monster Mash” party, a pagan party for Burning Man survivors, and a huge street parade that brought out thousands of partygoers. And I missed all of it!
Okay, that’s not exactly true. However, I did miss a lot, either entirely or by a hair. For instance, the Bollyween party. Held in a loft near downtown on Friday night, the soiree encouraged guests to dress a la Bollywood, i.e., Indian movie musical style. I don’t even want to get into the stress when I realized, after work Friday, I didn’t have the appropriate Bolly-wear, and that the nearby thrift store didn’t have what I needed. Compounding my anxiety, my wingman had visited the party site on Facebook. “All these girls are going!” Wingy said excitedly. “Hundreds! And only seven guys!” Anyway, all my stress was for naught, for by the time we arrived the party was down to the seven guys and only a few of the girls, and no one cared I wasn’t wearing a brightly coloured cotton shirt studded with rhinestones.
We were late for two reasons: a book launch and a birthday party. Of the former, there is nothing much to say, since book launches aren’t exactly hotbeds of singles activity. As for the latter, the celebration–at a once-trendy, now slightly frayed, restaurant/bar–was for the lovely Nat, a friendly bartender and girl-about-town. She was in the company of a few of her hot single friends, so I took the gathering as an opportunity to test out The Contract (see previous blog), specifically codicil #4: Thou shalt not seek to impress.
Normally, when I am surrounded by comely lasses, my automatic response is to crack jokes only I think are funny or tell stories no one is interested in hearing. This time, I did none of that. Instead, I basically sat there, back against banquette, like a lump, while the drinking and laughter raged about me. I did get one email address, though—from a potential interview subject, a guy who claims to be a stockbroker, DJ, and an adult filmmaker. In this day and age, you have to diversify.
Saturday night was more or less a write-off.* Sunday afternoon, however, featured a coffee date. Well, not a date, really, since I no longer “date”. It was a business meeting. Or was it? It felt like a date, at least to me. Sally** and I had had met once before, but only briefly, and this time, over coffee, we talked more about our personal lives than business. Anyway, she’s devilishly cute. So now the question is, what do I do? The Contract also states, “Thou shalt not pursue.” (The idea being that chasing women has gotten me nowhere.) But what if I just happened to drop a hint about an upcoming event she might be interested in? Or is that the beginning of the slippery slope?
*Comments my friend, MBK, with whom I went to the Halloween parade on Saturday night:
“I think it would been funny to mention how we ended up on the couch, a Blue Man and a purple-tressed alien, watching a Bruce Lee movie, at 10 pm Sat night, no?” Well, I dunno–I’m not really sure if that’s the image I want to project…
**Name changed in case anyone reads this.
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