A friend of mine has been suggesting I meet one of her friends in the hope that there may be some romantic potential between us. She has even offered to set us up, suggesting I head over to the pub after work on Thursday, under the premise that I am meeting my friend for a drink. The idea is that this girl will happen to be in the pub at some point too, where she would see me sitting with our mutual friend and could then decide if she was interested in me or not. If she is interested, she will come over to us; and if not, she will leave – no harm done. As you can see, this was a flawless plan - a no lose situation.
At least it would be for her!
It is nice to know who out of the two parties my friend automatically gave the power of initial refusal to. The way in which the procedure has been mapped out suggests that out of the two, she believes I somehow look the loneliest and lowest in self-esteem - which seems a bit presumptive, don’t you think? In fact, I’d go as far as saying it’s quite insult. Fair enough, there’s probably a truth, given the evidence both here and here, but as far as I know she’s never read this blog. It seems alarming and slightly depressing that she’s worked it out all by herself! I may be desperate, but I always prided myself on the belief that at least my desperation is quiet.
Exactly what benefit is there for me in this arrangement? Basically, I am being offered a chance to be put on display, then vetted and assessed by a stranger, as if I am some gallery artifact or zoo animal (When will women learn that men are not just pieces of meat, we are real human beings too? I can only dream of day where we will see sexual equality in our society). Then, if I do not get refused on grounds of how aesthetically pleasing I am, I will be awarded a chance for my personality to be assessed in some sort of interview procedure. Body & mind. How brilliant –I am shy and awkward when meeting strangers at the best of times, so what better way to put me at ease than lauding a first conversation with the pressure of a sensitive, undisclosed agenda. So - not one, but 2 opportunities for me to yet again experience the humiliation of rejection, then? Even to the least cynical minds, the whole thing sounds pretty grim don’t it?
I’ll let you know how it goes on Thursday.
On the plus side, we actually won the jackpot on the swindling quiz machine. That’s right, read it again. WE WON THE JACKPOT; and did so irrespectively of the fact that it tried to cheat again by using near impossible questions (“What was the 600th Number 1 single?” What? You don’t know? Ha - you stupid idiots! – I do!). There were five of us who shared the £10 prize. I tell ya, there is no sense of pride quite like the feeling of winning a jackpot – it makes all those hundreds of pounds we’ve collectively spent over the last few years feel all worthwhile.
Beating the machine might even give us the necessary confidence boost to enter the proper Quiz Night again next week. With real human beings and everything.
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