Friday, October 29, 2010

Foreign girls = a nicer "no"

Thinking to myself as I flew across the desert sand questions of the Middle East en route to landing in Tel Aviv - weren't the air hostesses of the past much hotter than the ones today? I've seen Catch Me If You Can. Stop. Pause. Bad behaviour. Have been warned not to compare women, much less treat them as objects. Note to self that I shouldn't do that again. Unless I'm trying to be a "bad boy"- in which case I can do that all I like. Spot conundrum? Told to be good, by those who would prefer me to be bad. Hmmm...

Israeli girls shock me. Firstly, they're all speaking English which means I can talk to them, which is a very good start. Secondly, they're beautiful, all types of course, from Ethiopian to Russian. But mostly, it's the directness that is appealing. The self confidence, bred into them no doubt by the unique situation they find themselves in, speaks volumes. Eye contact is long, sometimes lingering, and a particular woman just chooses to sit unnaturally close to me. We're not embarrassed. It's nice...

I'm beginning to think this could be the place for me when a pretty waitress wants to know ALL about me. We flirt, I think, although in hindsight, I think she was just talking. Sitting in a Tel Aviv bar at 2am and feeling ok with the world. Ask the waitress if I can meet her later... and of course, no. At least, I think, the no was just part of the conversation - not the reason for the conversation itself.

On arriving back in London I say hello to a girl at the baggage carousel. She looks at me like I'm a rapist. Back to reality.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

I'm a single guy...

First stop on road to recovery - throwing myself back in the mix in a brutal way. I'm no barfly chat up specialist, but neither am I a wallflower, so speed dating seems to be the happy middle. Applying the "quantity will pay off" method... Like buying so many raffle tickets that you probably win, but definitely lose. I tried not to be too cynical though - there are women out there just like me I thought to myself.

Sitting down in the posh-ish venue and waiting for the bell to ring, I thought to myself "am I gladiator, or just a somewhat nice guy?" The answer in front of me from Lady number one was the hitherto unplanned for "ugh! how long do I have to talk to this guy?" At least bad chemistry is chemistry I thought to myself... I'm giving off something. On to a row of girls who all clearly knew each other, and worse, there was no one in front of me in the guy cycle... so Lady number two talked to me as Lady number three listened. A common schtick was impossible, she heard all my best lines... When I sat down in front of Lady number three... I was lost for words. After a minute of fumbling, a miracle happened: we started talking normally.

Some glasses of wine and endless explanations of my job later I met Lady number ten. An attractive friendly woman from the north, if a little over my age limit, I decided to cut to the chase and ask her for a date during our six minute chat. She said no. On the matching form later, she said yes. As did apparently most of the ladies... I got 5 matches out of ten, and I chose only 6... great hit rate! Why can't I transfer that out to a real bar situation!

And then, and then... I emailed my matches... and... 1 replied. A poor hit rate. The cynic in me says they only matched with me to see if I would choose them. Dishonesty at the heart of the equation. Makes guys circumspect, and even... distrustful...