Thursday, November 03, 2005

A Perfect Date

I knew this was going to be different. For starters I had met him once before, so I didn’t have the same nervous anticipation of a blind date. Although lately my attitude to blind dates has been – have no expectations and then you might be surprised, but not disappointed. I had butterflies in my stomach, which I interpreted as nervous excitement, I was up for a relaxed evening, and easy conversation.

We were to go out on Saturday night after Shabbat. He called as expected and agreed to pick me up. Soon we were on our way….I even put on my pointy shoes, which are the most uncomfortable things ever, but aesthetically quite pleasing. As we traveled in the direction of East Jerusalem, we were stopped briefly in traffic by an Arab in traditional dress pushing boxes through the middle of the road, to which he commented ‘We really are in the Middle East’. I peered out the window at this spectacle creating a minor traffic jam, in the background of Jerusalem stone buildings and a cat scampering in the garbage, I silently agreed. I’m not in Kansas anymore and a feeling of distance hits you sometimes, when you’re not expecting it. We were moving again and my mind was moving again too, and I forgot where I was as we drove into the car park of the American Colony Hotel.

The hotel is gorgeous. It is the hotel of choice for a lot of journalists and TV reporters. When you walk in opposite the concierge there is a list of all the famous people that have stayed there. We walked past the Garden where seated at one of the Armenian tiled tables, a writer was avidly constructing a piece as his pen raced across a piece of paper I pictured Guy Hamilton and I wondered if Billy Kwan would pop out of some corner.

The bar was like an underground haven of class. It reminded me of Wine Banc in Martin Place, Sydney. A cupboard filled with Cuban cigars, a row of whiskeys that winded itself around the wall. A Piano standing idle, and antique divans and settees. The oriental materials, Turkish ceiling and tiled floor brought you back to the atmosphere of somewhere out of a movie, and again I thought of The Hotel Indonesia, it was so easy to think perhaps I was Jill Bryant?

We ordered: Him – a spicy Bloody Mary and I a cool Cosmopolitan. The drinks were accompanied with a plate of Fetta Cheese and Olives and a bowl of mixed nuts. We chatted generally but I just didn’t feel altogether there. My tummy rumbled and I thought maybe I would have preferred to go for dinner – I gently picked at the nuts.

I just couldn’t put any effort into conversation, as I continued to sip on my Cosmopolitan, I thought my lackadaisical attitude was due to the fact that I slowly just becoming tipsy and I was happy to sit there and listen to his stories. I didn’t understand, I mean I was interested, I wanted to be here but...Then I just sort of turned to him in the middle of the conversation, out of nowhere and said:
‘I don’t feel well’
I don’t think he really grasped what I meant, and neither did I.
‘No I feel really sick I think I need the bathroom’
So we leave the bar to find the bathroom, and on the steps on the way down I just suddenly throw up the entire contents of my stomach, it looks absolutely disgusting. I am completely taken by surprise, I guess I totally misread all my previous feelings and really I was developing a stomach bug. My stomach then ached something terrible and I was keeling over in pain.

He goes: “I am going to pay and then we are going to go’.
I can barely talk as my mind is slowly becoming more confused or nauseous.

We leave. In the car I am so embarrassed. I am in some sort of delirium and I am just laughing at how hilarious the situation is. I just could not believe what happened. I am finally taken out to a stunning place and I completely ruin it. How unclassy can you get? It just sort of proves that I am Bridget Jones. It has to be the single most amusing evening of my life so far. A real first. I just felt so sick.

A friend of mine requested a Blog on ways to end a date early and I really think that throwing up is perfect way to do just that.

To his credit, I was called the next day and he was even brave enough to offer me another date. I am still mortified, embarrassed, amused, and any other synonymous adjective you can think of…


Blogger Me said...

Awww.... Gils.... so sorry!

8:42 PM  
Blogger Karl said...

I think that must be the worse thing that can happen on a date. I hope you are feeling better now.
Sounds like he must like really like you to call you again. Did you accept? Whats the worst that can happen...

4:35 PM  
Blogger Danny Brill said...

Classic Gila...
Serioulsy Gils.. or should I say Bridget.. it's not like you put your fingers down your throat... shyte happens.

5:47 AM  

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