Thursday, November 15, 2007

A *really* interesting day

(this happened last week but I'm still reeling)

Part One

At about 4pm I received an email from a bloke asking me out for a drink.


It was very well-worded too: with a fair bit of self deprecation and humour, and, most importantly, with perfect spelling and grammar.

He’s a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend I'd met at a party the previous weekend. He’s tall, not bad looking at all, quite fit, really good job, very bright, extremely normal, nice bloke.

Of course, I don't fancy him in the slightest.

Part Two

Three hours later I had to go out that evening for to meet some work-related person. I was uncharacteristically late and got lost so I was sweating like a rapist by the time I arrived..

But it didn’t seem like a meeting. It went like a really good date. We did the work stuff, then had a couple more drinks. All very professional.


OK. He’s not tall, dark, or handsome. He’s younger than me. Our lifestyles are wildly incompatible. He probably does not have razor sharp obliques.

But I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t concentrate on anything.


Update: if you want to see some obliques First Nations has helpfully posted some pics. (NSFW - there are also cocks and Ronnie Corbetts.)

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  • I took the liberty of looking up the word 'obliques' in the sense you used it. The dictionary said: "A muscle neither parallel nor perpendicular to the long axis of a body or limb."

    I can only imagine you went out with Bertie Bassett.

    By Anonymous wyndham, at 7:23 PM  

  • It's those nice diagonally ones on men's stomachs just above their hip bones. Oh yes.

    By Blogger Spinsterella, at 7:42 PM  

  • Sorry, I'm still reeling from the "sweating like a rapist" line...

    Do you mean that sort of sweaty upper lip type thing that makes one wrongly attribute rapist status to the individual labouring under that particular labial affliction....or is there something I'm missing here...

    [runs off to The Spinster's back pages to peep through gaps in the fingers placed over the eyes...]


    By Blogger Robert Swipe, at 7:55 PM  

  • I thought "razor sharp obliques" was a typographical term, what with your penchant for grammar etc.

    By Blogger Annie Rhiannon, at 8:19 PM  

  • Annie - hahaha! I thought it might have something to do with sideburns, and am relieved at Wyndham's explanation.

    Ask him out, go on, seize the day...

    By Blogger Annie, at 8:45 PM  

  • There's a rule somewhere that says the more unsuitable a person the more we are likely to fancy them. . . or if there isn't there should be. It even happens to middle aged blokes who haven't seen their obliques for many a year.

    By Blogger Malc, at 8:48 PM  

  • Aha, you have a crush, that's what's happening. Nothing nicer to see you through winter.

    By Blogger red, at 11:28 AM  


    You're WRONG IN THE BRAIN, that's what.

    By Blogger LC, at 5:52 PM  

  • Yup. You picked up a pheromone. He must have caught yours because you were "sweating like a...."
    Does this constitue a good start?

    By Blogger Arabella, at 7:15 PM  

  • "Sweating like a rapist" ... "WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH ME?"

    Are you sure that you're not going through the menopause? Having a crush on someone is a last flush of the ovaries before they seize up for good, you know.

    By Blogger Betty, at 8:29 PM  

  • There is a cast iron rule that says that if you meet them through work and they aren't available, for work or personal reasons, they are bound to be considerably more interesting than any of the freaks and weirdos you meet through social events and who are available.

    That's just how it is.

    By Blogger GreatSheElephant, at 4:21 PM  

  • Oh My God, I think Betty must be right.

    My body is going "you're 32 years old, woman, BREED, BREED NOW! WITH ANYONE!"

    As far as I know he's available. And I haven't gone off him yet. God, I think I'm going mad.

    By Blogger Spinsterella, at 7:39 PM  

  • You're learning there is more to relationships than social status?

    By Blogger llewtrah, at 12:43 PM  

  • you fear security and normality, and so run screaming like a banshee every time something resembling ordinariness approaches you. you need drama and confusion in order to feel alive.
    end of pyschoanalysis.

    By Blogger Chaucer's Bitch, at 9:09 PM  

  • Very late, so you probably won't see this, but I wish I could see that email. I'd love to know how to write that sort of request so that it works and avoids the various perils of pervdom, excessive self-effacement etc.

    By Anonymous looby, at 8:43 PM  

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