Yesterday I saw a movie called Yes Man. The premise is quite simple, in order to embrace life, he says YES to everything that crosses his path, no matter how crazy, stupid, painful or expensive it may seem. I thought this sounded great. The full account of the…er, tomfoolery that ensued is a story for another day, but in the meantime, I have decided to share a certain strain of escapades that I found myself in after being obliged to click on a banner ad for a dating website.
This Yes Man business was fucking up my life fast, I was amassing a huge amount of mail order shit and quickly losing my resolve, so I decided that I’d accept the first three girls that I was paired with once I’d done all the tests, exams, sent in my blood, hair and semen samples, you know, the usual, and then I’d be done with this Yes Man crap.
So, I beheld my list, the last vestiges of this ridiculous covenant, a final adventure.
I figured I’d have some fun and maybe get laid, just to have something to show for all of the arrests and infomercial-directed purchases.
1 – Lolita1992
Her profile’s a little bare on details, just a few teasing remarks, lots of coy little smiley faces. There’re a couple of body shots in tasteful black and white, she was certainly a wonderful mix of, er ‘healthy’ and ‘lithe’, that is to say, she had something to show, and it was ALL in the right places, but she doesn’t show her face, so I remain cautiously optimistic, as only an aroused but otherwise intelligent man can be.
Ben: Hey! How are you doing? Loving that weather out there? lol
Lolita1992: hi there yeah i am its so gorgeous just been spendin all my time sunbathin like, i can’t get enough!!
Ben: hahaha i know what you mean totally, that’s brilliant!!
Lolita1992: i just love the sun it makes me feel all sorta, i dunno tingly all over
Ben: that’s deadly.
Ben: Is that really you in those pics?
Lolita1992: yep you like?
Ben: Ha! Sure who wouldn’t?!
Lolita1992: do you be out
Ben: Em, pardon me?
Lolita1992: do you be out like, at the weekend or whatevs
Ben: OHHHHhhhh sorry yeah, sure, I go out at the weekends, sure, I do be out all the time.
Lolita1992: cos like i wanted to go out tonight but all me mates are bein cunts an stayin in
Ben: Oh wow, cool. How old are you?
Lolita1992: old enough
Ben: No seriously though, are you really 18? When’s your birthday?
Lolita1992: my birthday’s in april why, wanna buy me a birthday present?
Ben: lol, one step at a time there…do you know ************ near ******?
Lolita1992: oh yeah sure, it’s deadly, i do be always in dere wit me mates when dere not bein borin
Ben: lol – how about 9? How will I recognise you?
Lolita1992: i’ll be wearin’ fuck all – you’ll spot me
Ben: Hahahaha…awesome! Great, see you then!
I had picked a venue with a really strict door policy, I knew the bouncers wouldn’t let someone in with dodgy ID, it wasn’t foolproof, but if she and I hit it off and the night went well, I didn’t want to end up with a statutory rape charge, so caution is paramount. I have a shower, shave off the beard I’d grown on a stupid dare from my Yes Man days (hereafter referred to as YMD), put on some decent threads and head out the door.
Close Encounter Time
The club’s pretty busy for a Thursday night, but I suppose it’s the summer time, exams are wrapping up, it’s to be expected – decent young crowd in, a couple of mingers here and there of course. I’m suddenly feeling wary about being seen with a sluttily-dressed eighteen year-old girl. I’m only twenty-five, but still, it’s enough of a gap to be kinda conspicuous. This being my first blind date of any kind, I’m nervous, so I down a two shots of tequila and work on a Diet Coke and vodka (doesn’t give you nasty breath). I start to feel a bit smug, looking around at the wrecks, I realise there’s a good chance I’m going home with some busty little number, and as the booze soaks in, I realise that even if her face isn’t all that, it’s been a while for me, and I could do a lot worse.
I start to wonder what’ll happen if I don’t spot her, but then it dawns on me that of course, I have pictures of myself on my profile, so even if I don’t see her, she’ll see me.
I down another couple of shots as the tension builds. Looking around, I accidentally make eye-contact with this inappropriately dressed, oddly-shaped septuagenarian. She hobbles over as I busy myself with my phone. Thankfully it vibrates with an email, a lifeline. I open it up.
“Peekaboo, I see you!” I smile, she’s here, while through the haze of alcohol, I am seized by this feeling of dread, like fingers of ice-cold water flowing over my brain and down my spine. As though on strings, wholly against my will, my head lifts up and I see this woman standing before me, a coy smile on her wrinkled face, blackberry in hand. She tucks it into her ample, severely sun-damaged and barely contained bosom and comes in for a hug. Fuck.
The Post Mortem
I get home and immediately take a shower. A long one. Turns out she wasn’t born in 1992. You know what they say about life starting at sixty? Apparently that’s very true in her case, as that’s when her second husband died, right after her sixtieth birthday, in 1992. When I was eight. Those B&W shots were of her, but they were B&W because people didn’t have colour film back then, and though she hadn’t lost the impressive bustline, there was something unappealing about that much thin, saggy flesh. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure that when I’m her age, I’d be lucky to have her.
But you know what? We actually had a great time. She showed me pictures of her grandchildren, and a sonogram of her first great-grandchild on the way. We drank a few rounds and then went for Eddie Rockets, and though we certainly had fun, I did spend most of the time slapping her hands and wandering feet away from my crotch. I had to call it a night when she poured a pint of coke in my lap on Grafton St and tried to pull my pants off “to scrub the sugar out of ‘em”, which is certainly a notably outdated expression, and I suspect also a euphemism for something else. I gave her a fake phone number and legged it while she searched for her glasses. I think I’m going to be a lot – a LOT – more thorough with stage one in future.
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