Give me something to remember you by, Mr TV Director



Photo: Akif Hakan Celebi



My intuition does not fail me often. 

Hearing from Mr TV Director warms my heart temporarily - precisely until I am reminded how aloof and selfish he can be.

Here is how the text conversation goes:

Beautiful but Grumpy:  Hey, you were in my dream few days ago so just checking if you’re alright.

Mr TV Director: Oh? Did something awful happen?? I am fine.  And in Nigeria for a couple of weeks.

BbG: Nothing really. Just that in my dream I saw you coming back home after a voice cords operation. Let me know when you're back.

............. Two weeks later............

Mr TV Director: Hi. I’m back. Away again tomorrow for a week, but just to Bristol. Free this evening though.

BbG: I’ve got meetings till 9.30 tonight.

Mr TV Director: Is after that too late? Otherwise one evening next week maybe.

BbG: Well, 9.30 is not too late for a drink but too late for anything else.

Mr TV Director: Well it would be a shame to have anything else ruled out, even if one can’t presume...

BbG: I agree J next week then?

Mr TV Director: Ok!

BbG: Please remind me next week in case I forget...

Mr TV Director: In case you forget!? :O

BbG: Yeah! J

Mr TV Director: OK!

............A week later.............

Mr TV Director: Hello.

BbG: Hello J

Mr TV Director: It’s this week!

BbG: Oh, yes. Of course. Totally forgotten! So when are you free?

Mr TV Director: Any evening. I think. You forget too bloody easily!

BbG: Hopefully this time you will give me something to remember. I can do Friday. Actually i need both something to remember and something to write about. Can you do that?

Mr TV Director: To write about?? Not sure about Thur or Friday but an evening after work?

BbG: I can only do Friday this week. Well, see how your plans develop and let me know. Have a nice week! X

I sense my obsession with Mr TV Director is officially over. We can be friends now. 
Or lovers. Or both.

How NOT to pull women

Last sunny Sunday I drop by a pub in Clapham Common for a drink with Rosa (who interestingly is my X's brother's ex, which makes our friendship even more special).


The place has a great decked garden and is packed with media type, young and good looking, including Richard and Judy's male offspring, who sits at our table and like everyone else here, wears trendy 80' sunglasses and is downing shots.

As it is getting loud and busy, Rosa and I choose to stand up. And as our conversation moves towards girly subjects – mainly complaining about a dry skin around the lips, which commonly occurs in the summer and is, in Rosa's opinion, a sign of dehydration - two handsome guys pass us slowly with visible amusement on their faces. I'm smiling too realising they've heard our dilemma.

They then linger near us and greet the host of the gathering, Rosa's friend Kate. One of them, blond with a messy but very sexy hair, wearing sunglasses (of course!) and some rock&roll t-shirt, faces me (while Kate introduces Rosa to his friend) and asks with husky voice and a grin:
“How is your skin? Still dry?”
“Oh, it's not me – it's my friend” I answer and just can't believe I lie about something that could easily be verified – I actually have some flaky skin around my lower lip.

And wanting to swiftly change the subject I inquire:
“Can you play a guitar?”

“No” he answers.

“Have you got a dog?” I am on the roll now…

“No” he comes again. “That's rather interesting series of questions” he adds.

But I lose interest and take Rosa's offer to get drinks from the bar. He only manages to whisper, “Nice to meet you” to my back.

Shortly after that I leave the party behind, trying not to be late to the dinner that Won't die Wondering is preparing, but I can’t stop thinking about what happened earlier.

I suddenly realise that I might have become desensitized. Yes, not much impresses me any more when it comes to being chatted up. I feel I've seen it all since being on the 'dating scene' for almost a year.

Or was this guy just not good enough?