One more date with Paul Prats come and gone.
He got lost on his way to picking me up again. There must be a blind spot on the map where my apartment lies. It’s a new neighbourhood and my road changes directions 3 times, which doesn’t help. But - one would suppose that, after being 30 minutes late last time, he would have learned to look me up on the map. What’s the Internet for anyway?
We went to a famous cocktail bar in town and downed some cosmopolitans whilst chatting about adventures. Sailing, parachuting, flying gliders. We’ve done it all in this strange age filled with ennui. We’ve travelled all over the world a couple of times and we’ve eaten all the foie gras. We’ve stayed in many five star hotels, got drunk on champagne and now entertain ourselves creating mechanisms to make sure third world countries get funding for social projects. I am definitely bored.
Paul, of course, is not to blame for my boredom, but he’s getting the bashing I knew the first guy who approached me after Jake would get. Criticism starts flowing as soon as depression wears off.
His getting lost translates as inefficiency – it could, of course, be endearing if I were interested in the man. He told me about a course he did on speaking in public – but he speaks so low it obviously didn’t work. He doesn’t drink enough (Jake is getting the bill for my AA treatment), he doesn’t walk with poise. He kept getting closer on the couch we were sitting on and (horror of horrors!!!) leaned his arm on my knee – only to be immediately pushed off.
Men do get credit for trying, and approaching a girl who has just had her heart broken should give them bonus points. It is social work, after all, contributing to the cure of Shattered Hearts & Insensitive Treatment (SHIT) by ex-boyfriends everywhere. They are the clean-up guys of broken relationships, and we treat them like rubbish.
Did Jake take away my capacity for kindness and gratefulness forever? Is every guy going to go through the “you´re not good enough” routine? Paul treated me very well, paid for my cosmos, opened the car door, discussed architecture intelligently and gave me an interesting update on the perils of building and corruption in Spanish society. He talked to me about all the problems involving sailing and told me what to look out for before I jump ship. He asked me smart, sweet questions about my dreams and my most treasured travel experiences and made me relive swimming with dolphins.
He got lost on his way to picking me up again. There must be a blind spot on the map where my apartment lies. It’s a new neighbourhood and my road changes directions 3 times, which doesn’t help. But - one would suppose that, after being 30 minutes late last time, he would have learned to look me up on the map. What’s the Internet for anyway?
We went to a famous cocktail bar in town and downed some cosmopolitans whilst chatting about adventures. Sailing, parachuting, flying gliders. We’ve done it all in this strange age filled with ennui. We’ve travelled all over the world a couple of times and we’ve eaten all the foie gras. We’ve stayed in many five star hotels, got drunk on champagne and now entertain ourselves creating mechanisms to make sure third world countries get funding for social projects. I am definitely bored.
Paul, of course, is not to blame for my boredom, but he’s getting the bashing I knew the first guy who approached me after Jake would get. Criticism starts flowing as soon as depression wears off.
His getting lost translates as inefficiency – it could, of course, be endearing if I were interested in the man. He told me about a course he did on speaking in public – but he speaks so low it obviously didn’t work. He doesn’t drink enough (Jake is getting the bill for my AA treatment), he doesn’t walk with poise. He kept getting closer on the couch we were sitting on and (horror of horrors!!!) leaned his arm on my knee – only to be immediately pushed off.
Men do get credit for trying, and approaching a girl who has just had her heart broken should give them bonus points. It is social work, after all, contributing to the cure of Shattered Hearts & Insensitive Treatment (SHIT) by ex-boyfriends everywhere. They are the clean-up guys of broken relationships, and we treat them like rubbish.
Did Jake take away my capacity for kindness and gratefulness forever? Is every guy going to go through the “you´re not good enough” routine? Paul treated me very well, paid for my cosmos, opened the car door, discussed architecture intelligently and gave me an interesting update on the perils of building and corruption in Spanish society. He talked to me about all the problems involving sailing and told me what to look out for before I jump ship. He asked me smart, sweet questions about my dreams and my most treasured travel experiences and made me relive swimming with dolphins.
Then he said he´d love to have been a shark in those waters in order to bite me. Ouch. He better be careful, I am in shark mode myself, but more willing to bite of his head than to take a nibble at his ear…
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