The Swinger
A couple of months ago a friend got me hooked on a game for
smart phones called, Quiz Cross. It’s a trivia game with the option of playing
with other random people in the world who have no nerdy friends and are looking
for an opponent. Enter: “Sparkle” (full username not disclosed out of respect). Her icon was
that of a blonde-haired, cartoon chick and she was a formidable opponent. My icon
is my facebook profile picture because I lazily used my facebook account to register
with the game. One day I get a normal-enough message saying hi, where are you
from etc. Then she says, “You’re very beautiful,” to which I replied, “Thanks,
very kind of you to say.” It struck me as a bit odd but then I thought she was
just being nice… until she started sending me kisses and those little faces
with hearts for eyes! I told her I wasn’t into girls, and she informed me that
she was "into both". After consistently more audacious messages she thought I
should know that her husband also thought I was “a hottie.” What the?! I
ignored these messages and continued to play (after all, she was a good
player!) but when she started requesting pictures of me in my swimsuit I had to
tell her she was crossing the line. I know there are all sorts of kinky things
that have become ‘normal’ these days, but, I’m sorry, a couple perving on you
together is just gross.
The Leicester Square Affair
While I was living in London, my dear friend Deb told me the
story of this guy who trained lonely, socially awkward men to be smooth pick-up
artists. She had watched a documentary one time that showed them trying out
their lines on girls in Leicester Square. It became a symbol for us, of the sad
state of the male population and the reasons why we were single! One evening, I
was in Leicester Square with “the Gang,” a group of dear friends that consisted
of Deb, Leo, Priya and Raffa (I miss you guys!). We were chatting and joking
around until a decent-looking young guy (accompanied by another man) came up to
us and started quoting me his number. I told him if he were really interested,
the least he could do was write it down himself. (My technique with unwanted
guys is to take their number so they leave me alone, and then obviously, never
call. I know it sounds cruel, but otherwise they just don’t go away!) He
reached for his card and as he was about to hand it to me, Deb raised her hand
in a gesture that seemed to say both, “stop” and “ooh, ooh, I know the answer!” Then the most classic line she has ever uttered flowed from her lips: “I
saw a documentary and you’re teaching him how to pick up girls!!” She was
addressing the tall, blond man that was overseeing this budding lady’s man, at
which point, the said lady’s man put away his business card, and muttered a
thousand words a second that went something like: “Well I just wanted to
know if you wanted to get jiggy with it. I mean, I was just playing. I’m gay
anyway.” Then he and his tutor skittled away in a wave of embarrassment. I mean
really, if you want anonymity, don’t make a documentary!
Europe is another planet! Haha I’m gonna miss these
characters when I head back to Australia where guys keep quiet and only check
you out on the sly. I’ll deliver a Part 3 at some point; I have an endless
barrel of these stories!
