A date request.

I am aware that this might make me sound a bit desperate, but still, I will just put it out there: I need a date. Vacation time is over, summer isn’t here yet, I need something fun to cheer myself up. No worries, guys, I don’t want to marry you or make you the father of my future children or otherwise entrap you in any way. I just want a date. I want someone to take me for a nice dinner, a little stroll through the park, and maybe some light yet steamy midnight snogging. No further obligations, you can just call me the next day and tell me you are leaving town to join the Peace Corps. I will believe you and you don’t ever have to see me again. Unless of course you are stupid like the guy who told me he was moving to Houston and still managed to run into me in NYC two months later. Then rather tell me you are not over your ex yet. That excuse works like a charm and I’m well used to it, in fact I can take it without any tears. 

 

What kind of guys need apply? 

• Due to recent circumstances I have lowered my age range (Cousin, do you read this?!). So with just 25 years of age, you are good to go.
• Mind you, please have some sort of a job so you can pick up the bill. Don’t tell me after dinner that you really would like to, but unfortunately can’t pay for me because your parents’ cheque hasn’t cleared yet (yes, that has happened more than I would like to admit). Also asking me for petrol money to get home is a deal breaker. 
• It would be nice if you were taller than me so I can wear heels without making you feel, well, small.
• Don’t mention of God or Jesus over dinner. Or after. Especially not when we get to the snogging part. 
• Photographers and general creative, I dig you! But I can also tell the good from the bad and the ugly. If you are a photographer, you should be able to take pictures that will remind me of the days when I had a crush on Nathaniel Goldberg or even better remind me of my brother. Which is not that weird as it sounds. He is just very brilliant and may have spoilt my aesthetics for life.
• Don’t wear white shoes. I hope I don’t need to elaborate this one further. 
• Be a bit daring. You could even suggest going to the movies. Though you will know that I generally hate going to the movies and so your only option is to lure me to the Labia via strawberry gin slushies.  
• Which brings me to: Do not not drink. We simply won’t get along. I have tried the AA/teetotaller route many times, it just doesn’t work for me.
• Last but not least: please have a sense of humour. If you are reading this and don’t get offended by me writing a list (and don’t be fooled, all girls have a list, I just happened to put it online), if you might even crack a smile here and there, yes, that would be a good start.

Thank you for your consideration; you know where to find me.

 

 

Any

Tales of men.

I will break this up a bit as I’m quite busy today and my attention span can’t deal with more than a paragraph at the time. Shall you have a request for a category, feel free to ask. For the time being I will start with something for the girls:

Part 1: Tales of men.

Bad Hersfeld

Back in my day there was a small, but nice selection on the menu: preppy doctor’s sons, local celebrity offsprings and the annual addition of yummy actors from the summer theatre. I shall report on the current situation when I go back in August.

New York

“No one has breakfast at Tiffany’s and no one has affairs to remember.” Yet, the tide might be changing as my list of friends getting married, having babies and generally living happily ever after in NYC seems to be growing over the last couple of years.

Cape Town

In the words of my favourite new wine:  “Western Cape – Where the winemakers surf and the surfers make wine.” What’s not to love?

No sex on the beach.

So this day has been the culmination of a crappy week and so bad that I thought my anxiety was back. I managed to keep it together for my co-worker because just like any man he gets scared by crying women. I thought the day was a goner for sure and only insane amounts of wine and some happy pills could make it remotely better, but luckily I was wrong. I think it was a mix of lots of Earl Grey with loads of sugar and some entertaining anecdotes from my Jo’burg pen pal. Probably the notion of hotel room sex, which he brought up in one of his emails also helped. No indecent proposals here, but just the mention of hotel room sex in general, which it seems we are both fans of. Who isn’t?

It started when I was a slave i.e. fashion assistant. One of the perks was that I got to travel travel cool places and usually stay in 5 star hotels with my boss. The boss would eventually complain about the 5-star hotel and ask me to request from the producer to be moved to another 5-star hotel. I had to hide my embarrassment when the producer asked me whether I was happy or would also like to move. Happy? I was still getting over the fact that they had Hermes bath products!  So I thankfully declined, the current 5-star hotel would suit me just fine.

This could now become a whole different story. A hotel story. I may write it one day. This one is about the not having hotel room sex.

The truth is that I have never had a crush on a male model before. Ever. I’ve seen them all, clothed, naked and everything in between and would usually help them getting from one state to the other. All part of the job description. Stereotype or not though, a lot of them are not very smart and either look too beefy or like 12 year old boys. Therefore usually no flirting, no crushes, definitely no hotel room sex for me on the job.

One exception was Oreol, the model for a fragrance campaign we shot in Ibiza. The day I had was quite stressful:

09h00 – 18h00: Lounge at the pool of the photographers’ villa all day while the private chef is making gourmet snacks.

18h00 – 18h05: At sunset give model a pair of black swim trunks.

18h05 – 19h00: Watch how they take portrait shot of him.

19h00 – 19h30: Go down to the beach with crew and take a swim.

19h00 – late: Have dinner on the beach.

No kidding – I got paid for this.

Oreol and I ended up having the loveliest conversation over dinner. A guy to my liking: from Barcelona, well travelled, studied, smart, funny and yes, he looked like a Roman god. At some point with the help of wine, sunset, beach some mild flirting entered the conversation. We ended up realizing that though we both travel lots we never pack toothpaste and end up paying exorbitant hotel prices. I had already done that in our Ibiza hotel and he hadn’t, so I thought it was only polite to offer him some of mine. I honestly didn’t even think it would go any further – what else would this god want in my room but toothpaste? Apparently other people, namely my boss George did. Travelling up the elevator together after returning from the beach, we got out, politely said good night and moved along the corridor to my room. George must have thought it a real possibility and gotten jealous because next thing I heard was him yelling: “Oreol, don’t you dare sleep with my assistant”. Thank you, George.

Needless to say that Oreol did not sleep with the assistant. Ever since I have stuck to the regular guys for hotel room sex and made sure George had something to complain and moved to another hotel before.

Of cat women and kitten guys.

So here is what I also did while hibernating:


http://seedsthoughts.blogspot.com/2011/05/10-things-10-scarves-10-moods-annika.html

I thought it would be a nice opportunity for my scarves to shine. I must admit though that the biography she included was a couple of weeks old (I did not know it would be included in all its’ glory at all to be true). I feel I must make this a point because after this weekend I am at ease with the world in general and the male population in particular for a change. Here is one reason why:

Delivered by a man in suit. For anyone who knows a bit about me – I am a sucker for men in suits and since everyone knows that Cape Town is a desert when it comes to suits this was a special and unexpected treat. Mind you, I like Irises too and thought it was quite endearing that he did not know their name, just that they were pretty and purple. Smiling me.

As I mentioned before the kittens will get one more write up here and then I will stop and hope that they will outgrow their cuteness. As godmother I was happily kitten sitting for the weekend. I probably have not mentioned that I do really want a cat myself and name her MiuMiu. The only reason I haven’t gotten one is that I’m afraid it will make me the old, single lady with the cat. Mind you I don’t consider myself old yet and if I had a cat the being single might not be so dreadful on rainy Sunday afternoons either. But for some reason I haven’t done the step yet – it seems to be seen as a step of desperation especially by guys. I think in this day and age most men like dogs. I also think if they do prefer cats that something is wrong with them. I know this assumption isn’t fair and bares all logic. I may have to blame Josh, a  guy I briefly dated in New York. He lived by himself with his big fluffy white cat called ‘Boo’. First I was delighted to have met a fellow cat lover, but after spending the night I realized there was something too strange about a man carrying a fluffy, white cat around the bedroom naked. With or without cat, it ended when he told he was moving to Houston. Funny enough in true Murphy’s law fashion I ran into him in a store two months later. We both mouthed the words ‘What the fuck?’ at the same time. Then he told me, no really, he was moving to Houston this week. I wasn’t sad to see him go – or not- and do blame him for my men with cats aversion.

I don’t think I need to explain anymore and will just say that for my world I don’t want a man who likes cats, but would like a man who likes me with a cat. That seems to be a bit tricky though. Kitten sitting was a good test run for things to come if I were to get a cat. The result – all is well in the world of cat girls and dog guys. Instead of kittens being kicked out of bed for being too squirmy, I was told off that it was my fault since I brought them into bed to begin with. Neither were the kittens reprimanded for watching R rated things, but me for not realizing what they were watching. The biggest surprise was probably that they had their pictures taken too and not by me.

What did I learn this weekend? I shouldn’t have to worry. Men, even if they love dogs, cannot resist kitten charm. Or me. Either way will work out fine for MiuMiu and me.