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Agreeing to watch the sunrise from a viewing spot seems a fantastic ‘student’ (read ‘free’) thing to do, until it’s 4:45 am and your alarm goes off. Why do we always anticipate that we’ll be just as enthusiastic getting up in the dark as we were when making the plans?
Also, this is a first date with someone I’ve never seen before. Why did I think I’d look decent (let alone attractive) at this hour? And then there’s the decision of whether it’s appropriate to revive this face-of-death with make up? And how much make up is too much if it’s 5am and you’re starting the day (we all know what make up at 5am looks like when ending the day)? Aaaah, questions, questions, questions when you should be sleeeeping!
But all well worth it, when as the magnificent sun was rising, I heard my American date say, ‘shhhhh’ softly and point to the wildlife, gesturing for me not to disturb the buck.
As if to complete this picture of true ‘Africa’, the dog’s owner emerged out from the path and continued along his run.
Sunrise breakfast at World’s View; ‘kiff’ start to the day.
PS: It’s not usually advisable to go to a remote location, alone, in the dark, with a stranger, but my friend knew him from Bible study, so it’s ok right?
So this week has been a little quiet on the blog front. I for one have been busy frantically trying to get up to speed with my Masters, as well as enduring a number of interviews. It’s been a little daunting as I have to go through 8 just for this round.
Although I must admit, that it’s amazing how useful this challenge has been with the whole process. I’ve approached each interview as if they were blind dates. Easy game now that I’ve had a fair amont of experience. There are a number of obvious similarities – you’re trying to make a good impression, while conversing, one-on-one, with a complete stranger. There are of course a number of differences too – a number of them have been married, older and any hint of flirting may not be considered appropriate.
So gleefully, I’ve headed to each meeting, referring to them with my friends as the usual, ‘dates’.
Today’s went as follows:
Walking into the cafe, some young-ish guy [about the age I was expecting my interviewer, Renato, to be] gestured, catching my attention.
Bridget: Hi 🙂 are you Renato?
Hi, yes. [gestures for me to take take a seat]
So are you here for a blind date?
[nervous giggle while sitting down and a mental, ‘STUFF HOW DOES HE KNOW?!] Nope, not today.
Well, I’m Raymond.
Are you seriously Raymond?
At that stage I saw someone just beyond me, get up out of their chair, walk over and say, ‘Hi, I’m Renato’.
Because, of course, sitting down at the wrong table is a GRRrrrreat start to an interview.
Luckily, the real Renato had watched the whole thing unfold. Including the point where the dude said ‘yes’ to being the wrong name. That may have been a ‘lets see how well she does in an awkward situation’ part of the interview.
Whatever. I totally handled.
Will post an official date tomorrow.
There are 5 of us girls and a guy living together in a student digs. You’re welcome to feel sympathy for the solitary lad, or envious of him – bearing in mind that that lad is Ivan. From my earlier post, you’ll have gathered preparation for a date is necessary, even if not elaborate. Prep for this date went as follows:
Bridget to all the housemates: Do any of you have something for me to borrow for tomorrow night’s date?
Ivan: You can borrow something of mine.
Bridget: I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get into your pants.
Ivan: Damn right?!
A little nervous for a real dinner date at a pretty fancy restaurant, I arrived in a dress, make up on, hair straightened and with the secret comfort of a friend close at hand. You see, with the decision given to me to choose a restaurant, it seemed all too easy to suggest the one where a friend waitresses. During the date, the blog and what would end up on it was discussed, although I’m assuming that this little insight will be a little surprising? And with that, I realise I’ve just turned into the cliché type of a girl who doesn’t go to the bathroom alone. One consoling factor for the slight spy-age: I got a message saying, ‘Ooo, yummy’ mid-meal.
When the restaurant’s guest book arrived for us to sign (see I told you it was fancy), I simply wrote, ‘A great place for a blind date’.
And indeed it was a great place and a great blind date.
As you know, I should have posted on Monday. I didn’t forget, I simply wasn’t in the mood.
Dating is tough work. If you’ve met the datee already, you either have a little “I-might-just-like-you” crush on them, which is great but for the stress and anxiety that goes into the process of readying yourself. Or you don’t, and are stressed thinking about what sort of silly questions you’re going to fill the awkward spaces with – “you’re a cat person?, I’m more of a goldfish person myself.”
Alternatively, it’s a blind date. For some reason unbeknownst to me, I thought that these would be stress free. Oh, ignorance is bliss. Until about an hour before, they are. And then t-minus-60-minutes arrive and you start thinking about what could go wrong -he could be late; you could never find each other; he could have a mustache, or really bad acne…and you won’t be able to stop thinking about sqeeeeezing that pimple on his chin(!!); he could be a racist; or, or he could be The One and you’re only wearing your 16th best outfit because you only started getting ready an hour before #hypotheticalfacepalm.
Dear Reader, I promise to continue to date only if to provide you with the sordid details ;)…but, should you see me looking decidedly disheveled and anxious, a coffee would be much appreciated – milk, no sugar.
take notes, boys 😉