You will remember the delightful special edition date I had in Bombay. In casual conversation I’d asked him to write the date up for me, so I could find out what it was like going on a date with me. And he did.
It was a lovely Tuesday morning and work was busy as ever. And, by busy I mean having to decide whether to log on to Twitter or Facebook first. Twitter won as usual.
I thought of checking out the 50 Dates in Delhi blog since I hadn’t done so in a while. I discovered it in an article in Mint about a month ago. I dismissed it because these blogs seem like attention grabs, so imagine my surprise when this one read so well. The writing was lucid and fun; she didn’t say excessively mean things about the men who agreed to be part of the experiment; all in all, she seemed like someone who was having fun on these dates.
While scrolling through her latest post, I saw something about her visiting Bombay.
This was my chance, I thought. I could get to be in a dating experiment and take one Delhi girl out for lunch/dinner/drinks. But what if Delhi Girl had already visited Bombay? What if she thought 25 year olds are just creepy noobs who like to hit on everything that moves? What is she’s never used the word ‘noob’? DEAR GOD, SHE COULD BE AN AGEIST!
I pulled myself together and decided to send out a test tweet to check if her trip was over already. Thankfully she was yet to visit the city. She told me to email her.
I got her mail address from the blog and officially asked her out. It was fairly straightforward, in the sense that I didn’t wax on about why I was such a nice guy or why our date would be the best thing in the world. I just said that I liked what I read about her on the blog and that I’d be a very happy guy if she agreed to come out. She instantly agreed to come out with me (:D) and we exchanged a few more emails.
Now when I read those mails after over a month, I can’t imagine why she agreed to say yes. Was this the perfect way to approach a woman? I don’t know. Could I have done better? Maybe. But it was very exciting for me that I was meeting with this woman who I had only read about till now.
After a little confusion regarding the venue for the date, we froze in on Saltwater Cafe at Bandra for lunch on Thursday. To be honest, I hadn’t been to this place before and the menu looked overpriced. But trustworthy sources had assured me that the place serves good food and has really good service. So I just went with it.
I was in Bandra for some work in the morning and I had just assumed that I’d be done early. But work had to be a pain in the you-know-what, extending beyond my budgeted time. Around 12:30, I figured I’d probably need to postpone our date by 30 minutes to finish everything that was pending so I could meet Delhi Girl with a free mind.
We exchanged a few texts and I decided that being on time was more important, even if it meant that I’d had to fend calls from the boss while on the date. There I was, at 1pm on the dot. A ten minute delay and about three calls later, she made it to the venue, even as I was trying hard to dial down my enthusiasm.
The first thing I notice is that she is wearing a green dress with a floral print and I realise that I am inexplicably observant of women’s clothing. She walks to the table and I greet her with a hug. It isn’t awkward or half hearted. A real hug, like we’d known each other for a while and had finally gotten a chance at meeting. I am glad about this.
As we settle down, the staff at Saltwater Cafe has already started placing the menu and prepping the table. She notices the bottomless Sangria offer and is quick to ask me if I’d like some too. Now I have always harboured a prominent distaste for sangria. It is just watered down wine with fruit thrown in. A fruit punch at best. But she’s so enthusiastic that, despite my reservations and a pending work day after the date, I agree to go for the bottomless glass.
I am glad to be proven wrong. I take the first sip from my sangria, and I am pleasantly surprised by how delicious it tastes. There is very little fruit and the alcohol is not just plain wine but a nice cocktail (with some vodka, I’m told. I can barely tell the difference.).
Better than the booze though is the conversation. I’m really enjoying talking to her. She discusses the blog, her family, her cat, her flatmate, her incredibly cheap Wi-Fi plan and bad attempts by younger men at asking her out. She is a conversationalist, I can tell. Maybe her line of work and the dates that she has already been on ensure that she’s easy to talk to.
In my recent experiences, the people I’ve been on dates with have been rather difficult to talk to. Maybe great on the phone, but increasingly boring when in person. But this date is fun. I am willingly sharing stories about what happened in college and with previous dates. She is highly amused by the number of women I’ve dated.
I noticed something unusual though. When I talk to her, she is completely cued. She just gets it. Not for a second does she miss a word I am saying. It’s a major turn on. She answers everything confidently and asks me questions to find out more. It makes me feel good about this date and makes me feel like this is someone I would like to go out with again.
The boss calls at least three times over the duration of our date, but I really do not want this to end. Unfortunately, she has somewhere else to be. So I do the sensible thing and drop her to her destination. In the meantime we’ve made a plan to meet in the evening again, even if it means that I have to crash her meeting with a friend.
The time in the evening is far more fun and intimate. Infused with rum and chicken and loud conversation. Loud conversation that is often interrupted by the staff at Janta because we’re disturbing the other patrons. Of course, we respond with even louder discussions about male genitalia and how hands work on them. Cigarettes are lit and some private moments are had.
This was followed by a peaceful 2:30 am-ish walk around the bylanes of Khar and a goodbye kiss that makes me feel things I haven’t felt in a while.