Thank God It’s Friday! I’ve had a dreadful week and this weekend just couldn’t roll around fast enough. It’s just been one irritation after another.
It all started, as usual, with the boss. She’s got a thing going with a major client (she thinks no one knows but they keep having sex in her office, for goodness sake), which is good for the company as he keeps throwing deals our way. Problem is, when they fight, we suffer.
This guy is trying to get his ex-wife to move out of his plush house in Kololo so that he and my boss can convert it into a shag-pad. It seems to be taking much longer than expected, which is pissing the boss off something chronic. Unfortunately she vents her frustrations on her hapless employees, with yours truly often in the firing line.
The less said about the poor dog I knocked on the way to work, the better. I still feel sick just thinking about it. The worst thing about it is that he was chasing some bitch across the road. All he wanted was a good time, and I killed him. The guilt is destroying me.
The icing on the crap-cake was the disastrous date with the corporate dude who turned into Neanderthal at the dinner table…
Trevor works in the office block next to mine. I never paid much attention to him, because he wasn’t really my type, but we kept bumping into each other on the way to lunch and at various corporate functions. He seemed funny enough, but I never saw him as date material. Until one day he sat at my table while I was having lunch at the canteen, which is frequented by employees from both our companies.
The conversation flowed, he was witty and charming and kept me fully entertained, so much so that I got back to the office late. He wasn’t feeling particularly well that day, so rather than eating he opted for a glass of juice instead.
He asked me to dinner, and I accepted, especially when he suggested a date at my favourite Indian restaurant. We agreed to meet the following evening. For the rest of the day, we were Tweeting and Facebooking back and forth. He seemed to have potential and I found myself looking forward to our dinner date. Not even the boss’ bitchy comments about people coming back late from lunch bothered me. (At least I’m not getting jiggy with clients in the office loos).
D-day rolled around, and I managed to get all the preparations done by leaving work a little early (11am, to be precise. A girl needs time to get ready!) I arrived at the restaurant and found Trevor already seated at our table. He had ordered a bottle of dry red wine (my favourite) and was looking rather sexy in a dressed-down sort of way.
He did everything right! Complimented me on my hair (Kiki’s Salon), my blouse (my sister’s closet), even my nails! (Sula at Kiki’s. Great manicurist, terrible breath). I thought I could actually start liking this guy…
And then our food arrived. Everything went south from that point onwards. Something tells me that this guy had never been taught how to use a knife and fork. He didn’t bother to break the popaddoms before cramming them into his mouth, he ate ALL the nan and managed to get a trail of dhal down his shirt. I was so horrified I couldn’t eat. The couple on the table next to ours kept looking at us- I couldn’t tell if those were sympathetic glances in my direction, or if they were simply amazed at how someone who looked like an organized chap could chew so loudly.
I couldn’t take anymore, and did something I’ve only ever seen done in movies. Excusing myself from the table and ducking slightly to avoid a piece of unidentifiable Indian cuisine that came flying out of Trevor’s mouth, I made my way to the ladies, perfectly situated near the exit.
I don’t need to tell you that I fled the restaurant. I wasn’t going to spend another minute with that guy.
Needless to say, I’ve stopped taking his calls, ignore his texts, and have blocked him on all social networking sites.
Looks like I’m going to chill the world of dating for a while…