Without looking for it, I was asked for a date. Sober, in complete daylight and face to face. Mr T is a Sipology scholar like me, already a PhD and working at the Agency of Advancing Cocktail Culture in the Nordic Region. He looks nice. A bit funny, but nice. After a Martini workshop on Wednesday, on the street outside, he turned to face me, looked straight into my eyes and said "I have been invited to a party on Saturday, would you like to be my avec?" How could he take such a risk? Doesn't he know the rules of this game? Doesn't he even know about the game? I said yes.
The party turned out to be the pop star Ilkka Alanko's 40th birthday party. When arriving to greet him, I was expecting him to express he knows my fame just as I know his. But he asked Mr. T to teel him who his beautiful company was, which was a nasty insult that celebs sometimes use on each other. To make it worse, I had to sit there all night watching him and all his rock star mates perform and suck the room dry of admiration. Mr. T seemed happy, but I was suffering. I longed to the cocktail bars, to my kindom. Began texting my friends: where are you?
Mss R replied to tell me she was going out with the artist she had met. "I told him I'm not looking for a serious relationship", she texted. She always says that to guys with whom she wants a serious relationship. When the guys are happy with just the sex too, she says they don't care about her. "Stupid girl", I texted her. Tried Hilkka. She asked me to come to a party at the Opera, meaning the actual opera house. My SMS: "Hilkka, I've had 3 fillings of sparkling while waiting for the welcoming toast, 3 of the still, and 2 Gin Tonics: Opera is not my place."
Decided to go to A21 and said goodbye to Mr T. He walked me out. At the door, he did that staring thing again. "I find you very interesting", he said. "Thanks", I said, panicking. I hope nobody ever asks me to marry them, that would be too embarrasing.
"I would like to meet you again."
I began stepping backwards. "Yeah, let's text each other."
"Or maybe we could decide a date now." (What?!!!)
"I don't know, you know, I'll need to check my calendar, so let's get back", I mumbled, ready to go.
"Okay." And then he does the thing in the movies, comes so close I can feel his breath, and I'm petrified, and he lowers his eyes to my lips and his lips come slightly apart, and he gets closer and closer, and then he kisses me softly and it takes a long time and its wonderful. I start walking away and he is watching so hard I don't remember how to walk and behind the corner I just smile the biggest smile, and then I giggle.
At the A21, beneath the vivid talk about cocktails and bars, I was dizzy.
Maybe every real couple needs one person that doesn't play games? Maybe I had only met players so far. Maybe they too need someone who doesn't play. Some other, different kind of woman. Already after one date, Mr T. had made me see myself more clearly: I am a player. Autch.
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