|
Meet your Special Someone™
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | Not for Hindus ... just kidding. Random thoughts, comments on anything that takes my fancy. Strictly a my opinion only & if you do not like, don't read, agree to disagree & go away happy. No flames, (flamers OK), request for photo/green card/webcam action etc please. |
|
|
|
| Debrief |
May 17, 2008 12:08 pm
Mood: Knackered, 736 Views | I kind of pride myself on being able to smell danger a mile off. Especially the kind of danger from unwanted attention.
Close friends know why and how I tend to keep a careful eye out for the slightest sign of trouble. It has led to a now-entrenched lifestyle of flying under the radar, keeping to safe environments and a low-key, almost reclusive existence.
Perhaps it is in response to the attention-garnering work I do.
Still, every time there is trouble, I ponder and analyse everything in my own private debrief.
Why did they behave in such a manner?
What prompted or triggered such behaviour? What could I have done to prevent it from happening? What can I do to stop it from ever again?
How did I miss the signs? How did the perpetrator get close enough?
When did I drop my guard?
Tonight, I knew exactly the catalyst, the why, the how and the when.
I was the only female seated with a bunch of old fogies. To an outsider it may have looked like I was open to or desperate for any male attention. When in actual fact, half of them were my uncles and the other half were my uncles' friends.
What prompted the stalker to target me?
A plate of cheese.
Talk about cheesy come-ons.
Some of the older gents had decided it was past their bed-time and a couple of the uncles drove them home before returning to the cafe. So there I was, all alone till they returned. Which is normally not a problem.
One of the uncles had just been back from the motherland and had a platter of goat cheese for me to try. I was nibbling delicately on it when the lone chap seated at the next table asked me what it was.
Ever polite, I told him it was a special, home-made goat cheese from the motherland. When he asked its name so he could order some, I told him it was off menu and was just something one of the uncles had brought back.
He looked so disappointed, I made my first mistake.
The When for when I dropped my guard.
The How did I miss the signs was because I was tired and feeling complacent after being coddled by all the uncles and in our safe oasis. I did not think anyone would be stupid enough to harass me in our own territory.
Silly me.
I offered him the platter of cheese. I even smiled kindly at him as I did that. Mistake 2.
He pulled his chair over.
Immediately, the guards went up and I had to restrain myself from pulling my chair further away from him. I knew the sign. The encroaching of personal space move.
And sure enough, he ate the cheese, he ordered coffee, he kept pulling his chair closer and closer till his arm was almost on the back of my chair.
His speech started slowing into what he thought was a seductive purr but in reality was a sibilant spew of smarminess.
His face crept closer and closer till he could almost smell my hair , which was unfortunately unbound and all over the place.
Fortunately, I managed to place my shisha between us, claiming that the wind was blowing the smoke into my hair.
He started asking me personal questions. If I was married, attached, single. What I did for a living. What I liked to do in my spare time. Where I frequented.
My answers were icily monosyllabic by now and I executed my usual rescue mission plan.
I pretended my mobile had rang. When in actuality I had just called the cashier. In our language, which I was sure he did not understand as he was Swiss, I asked them to send the Enforcer to my table.
So F, aka the Enforcer, came round and I gave him the look. So he sat down between us ... insistently ... and tended to my shisha. And stayed to chat. Something the almost perpetually silent F seldom does. I think tonight was the longest conversation I have ever had with the boy.
And then my uncles returned and I apologetically (not!) informed my persistent stalker that the chairs were reserved for them and that it was nice meeting him.
He hung around for a while, hoping to catch me alone again. But by now, my uncles and the waiters knew the score and no one gave him an opening and many menacing looks were cast in his direction.
In fact, the more geriatric uncle (he's 82) wanted to beat him with the charcoal burners. We had to dissuade him as we were afraid he would do himself more harm than the persistent stalker.
He still had the gall to give me his card before he left and asked that I call him so we could have lunch or dinner one day. I used the card to add to the fires of the coal burners.
So, my debrief goes like this ...
Never offer strange men food. They'd think you're interested in them instead of being kind.
Never be kind.
Never assume you are safe. Even in your own territory.
Never go around smiling at strangers. Especially men.
Side note: Remember to buy F a nice shirt to thank him.
| |
|
15 Comments | |
| Gift of the Gap |
May 17, 2008 3:32 am
Mood: amused, 727 Views | I am constantly awestruck by some of my male friends.
Quite a few of them are highly intelligent, well-travelled, philosophical, talented, funny and thoroughly good company. They make great mates.
But they sure make clueless husbands/boyfriends/partners.
Today, I was picked up by a friend, TS, whose business and lifestyle entails his wife having to live in another country and making bi-weekly flights to and fro just to spend time with him.
That's not the horrible part as it is quite a common, sadly enough, trend among my circle of friends and acquaintances.
The terrible part is her birthday gift.
Another male friend casually asked TS when his C class or S series or whatever that Mercedes Benz auto is called, was coming in. He flippantly replied that it would get there for his birthday. Which sent his wife into an amused but resigned tirade that it is supposed to be her birthday present but was coming in on his birthday instead.
I have next to zero interest in cars but even I could see the faux pas in this and asked TS whose birthday present it was supposed to be.
The man blatantly responded that it was his wife's birthday gift but it was arriving on his birthday and he was going to test drive it for a while to make sure it was safe. Rrrrrright ...
The kicker is that it would arrive when she is not in town.
Classic.
He's not the worst of the lot. There is E who bought his wife a dartboard for Christmas and made her open it on the eve, before dinner. So all the blokes could play darts while waiting for dinner.
I asked E's wife, "A, do you play darts?"
"No."
"Oh."
There was another mate who bought his wife a romantic weekend trip to a tropical resort island as an anniversary prezzie. She talked about it for days and planned her entire wardrobe numerous times, as well as audited all the girlfriends for salacious, naughty things she could try out during their third honeymoon.
I slapped my palm against my forehead when I received a message that her husband had left her, to go on a golf tournament with his mates, the moment they landed on the island.
Apparently, that was why he planned the trip. There was a golf tournament on and all his mates were there too.
He gave her another supplementary card and told her to treat herself.
I remember her asking us who was the most expensive jeweler available on the island and had commandeered a laptop and Internet connection to do some online bankrupting.
Weeks later when I caught up with him for lunch, he still could not understand why she was so upset.
Clueless. Totally clueless.
One of my friends who is an avid ballroom dance enthusiast told me she was actually on the verge of divorcing her husband when he bought her 100 hours with her favourite dance instructor, as a birthday gift.
That's not the problem.
The problem was when he included a note requesting that she be discreet. Being a fairly notable businessman, he did not want to be embarrassed by the news of his wife being seen on the arms of a DI and swanning all over the place.
The DI happened to be a distant nephew, which I believe was unknown to the distrustful husband. The half-wit had just insulted not only her virtue and morals but also the integrity of her family.
Again, when I met them for dinner a while later, he still had not apologised and could only reiterate that having his wife seen dancing in public and in the arms of a DI, relations or not, was not the done thing.
I icily said I should, perhaps, not be seen having dinner with them too then since I was a dancer.
He had the grace to flush and apologise hastily. I made a note that I would not be available for meals with him anytime soon. His wife, yes. Him ... no.
But one of the supposed clueless gifts, in the coterie of deal-breaking prezzies/insult, was actually quite meaningful.
One of my CEOs once happily announced, during a casual brainstorm, that he had bought his wife a mattress for their 10th wedding anniversary.
Not just any mattress. A Four Seasons hotel mattress.
My eyes widened appreciatively even as all the women in the room started berating him for being unromantic.
Hold on, you clueless harpies.
A mattress that is custom-made only for the Four Seasons which cannot be bought anywhere else. Which is the most comfortable mattress I have ever slept on and I have stayed in many, many establishments. The kind of mattress that makes you want to loll around in bed all day and perform all sorts of gratifying positions to achieve the most sybaritic pleasure?
I clapped my CEO on his shoulder and said,
"Well done, mate!"
He grinned gleefully and said it was the smartest and best gift he ever gave her.
Damn right. Bet they conceived their 4th child that anniversary too.
| |
|
8 Comments | |
| To link to this blog (Whatsherface) use [blog Whatsherface] in your messages. |
|
|
|
|
| Sun |
Mon |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
| |
|
|
|
1
|
21
|
31
|
|
41
|
51
|
61
|
73
|
81
|
9
|
10
|
|
113
|
122
|
13
|
142
|
151
|
16
|
172
|
18
|
191
|
20
|
21
|
222
|
231
|
242
|
25
|
261
|
271
|
28
|
292
|
301
|
311
|
|
|
|
|
