April 2005

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Service: * * *
Food: * * *
Ambience: * * * *
Babe Count: * * * *

L and I are meeting for the first time. She’s a babe from the internet dating site. In some of our emails, she’s expressed a specific anxiety about meeting with men. She’s told me that she’s a bit worried about something, based on an extremely unpleasant experience she had with a dude a coupla months ago.

I pressed her for details, wondering if he was a molestation expert, or if he tried to force her to have sex with his automatic pistol.

Nothing like that, as it turns out. The dude has an exceptionally tiny dick, she says.

“Well, what’s tiny?” I asked in an email. “I mean, was he TINY, or do you require an ENORMOUS dick?” I continued, in the email to suggest this. “Why don’t we meet, and before we even speak to each other, we go straight to the toilet, you unzip me, and give me a blow job, and then, if my dick’s too small for you, you just walk away and the date’s over?”

She replied, “I’m not that kind of girl!!!!!!”

Which is when I pointed out to her that it was an odd point of discussion, and that maybe she’s concentrating on the wrong things.

Well, here she is, in front of me, and she’s gorgeous. And she’s not limping or anything, so I’m assuming it’s not ENORMOUS equipment that she requires, so I’m sure I’m vaguely adequate. Even if I’m more on the moderate side of the scale.

I hold up a sugar packet, one of the long, cylindrical ones, not the flat, rectangular ones. I say, “Was he THIS big?”

She blushes like crazy. A long silence. Then she says, “He was smaller than that. And impotent.” And then she introduces herself. And I introduce myself. And, thank god, I’m bigger than a sugar packet. Phshew. So I’ve maybe got a chance with her.

But I must say, I’m a tad confused about why on earth a girl like her has agreed to come on a date with a guy like me. She’s read my blog. She knows that I’m a naughty fellow. She knows that I’m a serial dater. She knows that I’m shagging at least one woman. She knows that I’m into BDSM.

“You’re probably thinking I’m quite conservative,” she says to me at some point during brunch.

I think about that. “Not exactly conservative,” I say. “More that you’re curious about the world, that you’re open to things, but that you’ve had a limited perspective, and now you’re open to more. It seems to me you’re learning things about yourself that you didn’t know.”

“Not really,” she says. “I know myself well.”

So I’m not reallllllly sure whether or not she’s conservative. In her profile, she mentioned being Christian, and going to church weekly.

Which doesn’t bother me, entirely. But it does sort of raise a flag. And the flag has a little thing on it which says, “Uh… is Roy REALLLY suitable for you?”

The manageress strolls up to our table, looking very guilty. “Can I ask you a favour?” she says, into a kinda ingratiating small-girl way. “Would you mind if I bring you your bill, or move you to a smaller table for two?”

We’ve been here for about two hours. We’ve both had breakfasts. We’ve both had about three cups of coffee. We’ve had cake. And we’re not actually finished.

I say to the manageress, “Actually, I DO mind. Firstly, we’re paying customers. And secondly, I’m a regular here. We’re not going to move.”

She mouths an apology, and moves off.

I’ve enjoyed our date. And she’s laughed quite a bit, and finds me funny. So that’s quite encouraging. So maybe we’ll have a second date. And maybe I’ll get to find out about her non-conservative side.

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Monday, April 25, 2005

Service: * * *
Food: * * *
Ambience: * * * 1/2
Babe Count: * *

I’ve met Nick early. Because of the ka huna course I went on, I’ve got two matches I need to catch up on. One is with Nick, the other with Demetri. He’s a really cool guy, Nick is. Highly successful in the cellphone industry.

And a fine backgammon player.

Which is why I’m very happy to be 9–4 ahead by the time Gary — my official opponent for the night — arrives. So Nick and I agree to meet early next week, and finish our match. We’ve both ordered prego rolls from one of the other restaurants on the premises. Mine’s kinda all right. The roll is VERY soggy. But the potato chips are outstanding. Worth ordering all on their own.

I’m feeling on top of the world.

Earlier this afternoon I went off to S’s place. She’s a professional ka huna masseur. Also trained with Anthea, but she’s done levels three and four, which puts her way up there in terms of skill and ability. She has a morning job, running her own personnel business, and she gives between three and four massages a week. Similar to what I’m aiming at, actually.

We’re doing a swap. I’m massaging her this afternoon, and she’s giving me one in two weeks time, just before I fly off to London. (I’ve been invited to talk about Barefoot Press and alternative poetry distribution at an international literary conference.)

This time, I’m MUCH more confident. Yesterday’s massage was amazing to give. And J’s feedback about the arms was very useful. Today, I’m totally confident, and not even slightly hesitant. S and I are NOT lovers, so I’m not worried at all about me coming across as some kinda pervert. So the massage goes astoundingly.

When we’ve finished, I ask for feedback. She tells me that I’m a total natural, that it feels to her as though I was born to this. She mentions that when I oiled up her arms, I could have been a tiny bit more delicate. But on the whole, nothing to complain about. Welcome to the ranks of ka huna masseurs.

Man. This is cool for me. It feels like another chapter of my life has started.

And then, back at The Codfather, Gary proceeds to demolish me 21–16. Although I have to admit that I played some mystifyingly crazy moves, so I kinda deserved my defeat. But who cares? It’s only backgammon. Ka huna awaits me. And I’ve got a swap arranged with N on Saturday morning. Yay!!!!

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