Bond, James Bond
Last night, I went on a date. A nice lady. We were introduced last week by a mutual friend who had invited both of us for a barbecue at his home. At the end of the evening, she gave me her number and asked me to call her. Which I did; and invited her to a movie.
Movies are a good idea for a first date. No risk of pasta sauce ending up on my shirt, no risk of getting completely drunk at the bar, no risk of her finding out that I dance like a pregnant elephant or that I have no meaningful conversation to speak of. I mean, after all how can anyone screw up a date where all he has to do it sit in the dark and watch a movie?
Well, I know such a man. His name is Haroun El Poussah (some, mistakenly, think he is also called Herlock Sholmes but that is a story for another time).
So, back to screwing up sitting in the dark watching a perfectly innocent movie. Yes, innocent movie. Sitting in the dark watching the latest adult only movie is screwable. But watching James Bond isn’t.
So, we arrive early, sit and start chatting while we wait for the main attraction to start. A few minutes later, Sophie, announces that she is hungry and wouldn’t mind a hotdog. Being a gallant gentleman, I offer to go get her one. By the time I got back with a couple of hot dogs and some nachos the movie has started. We sit there and proceed to eat our food while Daniel Craig is showing off his pelvic muscles.
98 minutes later the movie ends and the light comes back on only for me to discover that half the hotdog mustard and half the Nacho red sauce ended on my shirt.
“Hell and Damnation!!” Is there no end to the streak of bad luck? Can it get any worse? Of course, the only upside to this whole situation is that she could offer to lick the weird mixture off my shirt. But at that point, considering the look on her face, I was not holding my breath. So, our eyes meet and I can see horror in hers. I smile, that innocent smile that got me out of so many bad situations when I was 4. Unfortunately she is not 4, nor is she is not my mother, she is a woman – a good looking woman – and she doesn’t want to be seen, in public, with anyone wearing a shirt like mine.
She looks at me leans forward, bringing her lips close to my ear and whispers: “Let’s go find the hot dog that goes with this sauce”…
Haroun El Poussah
Movies are a good idea for a first date. No risk of pasta sauce ending up on my shirt, no risk of getting completely drunk at the bar, no risk of her finding out that I dance like a pregnant elephant or that I have no meaningful conversation to speak of. I mean, after all how can anyone screw up a date where all he has to do it sit in the dark and watch a movie?
Well, I know such a man. His name is Haroun El Poussah (some, mistakenly, think he is also called Herlock Sholmes but that is a story for another time).
So, back to screwing up sitting in the dark watching a perfectly innocent movie. Yes, innocent movie. Sitting in the dark watching the latest adult only movie is screwable. But watching James Bond isn’t.
So, we arrive early, sit and start chatting while we wait for the main attraction to start. A few minutes later, Sophie, announces that she is hungry and wouldn’t mind a hotdog. Being a gallant gentleman, I offer to go get her one. By the time I got back with a couple of hot dogs and some nachos the movie has started. We sit there and proceed to eat our food while Daniel Craig is showing off his pelvic muscles.
98 minutes later the movie ends and the light comes back on only for me to discover that half the hotdog mustard and half the Nacho red sauce ended on my shirt.
“Hell and Damnation!!” Is there no end to the streak of bad luck? Can it get any worse? Of course, the only upside to this whole situation is that she could offer to lick the weird mixture off my shirt. But at that point, considering the look on her face, I was not holding my breath. So, our eyes meet and I can see horror in hers. I smile, that innocent smile that got me out of so many bad situations when I was 4. Unfortunately she is not 4, nor is she is not my mother, she is a woman – a good looking woman – and she doesn’t want to be seen, in public, with anyone wearing a shirt like mine.
She looks at me leans forward, bringing her lips close to my ear and whispers: “Let’s go find the hot dog that goes with this sauce”…
Haroun El Poussah
posted by Haroun el Poussah at 1:45 PM
7 Comments:
I admire your writting and your adventures. I guess I am a little dumb but I didn't get the twist at the tail.
Hmmm... naughty,naughty!! So did you find the hotdog that went with d sauce...*winks*
lol, a most interesting sting in the tail..
however, as with most of your posts you never really follow the topic to conclusion.. but then again a gentleman shouldn't kiss and tell?
Ahhhhh
u couldn't end it just there!!!!!
I like her, though personally a big turn off is a man who cannot eat. For example, if the man does not know that you hold the fork with his left and the knife with his right then I'm completely turned off. It might seem petty to you men, but I love to see that my man does have good etiquette skills and manners which includes not getting sauce all over his shirt.
A rule of thumb for the future, stick to non messy foods on your first date - ie, no spaghetti, no hotdogs etc.. Have popcorn instead!
@ Yasmeen: Table manners are important - but sometimes stuff spills, there's no point in being so hung up on it. Could happen to even the most meticulous eater.
@ Haroun: Did you end up getting sauce on her...?:P
I think he got it IN her. That is why he is so evasive :)
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