![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Be warned friends, this post contains a little more squeeeeee than zen. And it might become rather long. Blame the coffee I had yesterday as late as 6 p.m., so I could only sleep 4 hrs and woke up at 4.45.
So, in chronological order:
Contrary to all expectations, the weather was fine yesterday, warm with a lot of sunshine, so we could play our double on the open court. I'd agreed with Valentina that the two of us would start at 12 already, to be joined at 12.30 by Mr H and Pinar.
He arrived punctually, but Pinar was running late. Seeing as I'd already warmed up for half an hour, I offered to Mr H that he could have a solo warm-up with Valentina, too, while I sat in the sun, ogling him in a rather unobtrusive way (wearing sunglasses, and when two people are playing, watching them is the most natural thing on earth. Heh)
Then Pinar arrived, and we played our double, which we finished around 13.30. Mr H then excused himself, because he had to go to the office and get some work done; Pinar and I had a rather fun half-hour lesson with Valentina, and afterwards we had coffee.
Went home, showered, got prettied up and dressed, and in the 15 or so remaining minutes before I had to call the taxi and go to meet Carla, I had an epic fight with myself re. calling Mr H and asking him out to dinner. I finally decided that I was going to do it during the taxi ride, and I did it. And he said yes.
Attitude of cool zenitude was severely damaged. Taxi driver was somewhat astonished but obviously couldn't resist my very sunny smile and thus decided not to take me straight to the psychiatric clinic in Bardovci.
Carla and I got into some serious girl talk right away and were having a great time. She was planning to go to the cinema with some friends and asked me whether I'd like to come, too. I said I had a dinner and so couldn't come, sorry.
Was it work-related?
Erm, yes.
So cancel it and come with us instead, we're going to have fun.
Erm, no, it's not so bad actually.
Then the girl talk got to a point where I thought, screw it, I'm going to tell her. Might be the biggest mistake I've made in a long time, but sometimes you just have to trust your instincts.
So while we were having a cigarette outside, I told her that I was going to have dinner with her boss.
With a smile as bright as a Christmas tree on steroids, she said, "Really? REALLY? Do you actually like him?"
Well, I'm trying not to, because liking guys with whom I know I don't stand a chance isn't good for the self-esteem. But yes, I do kind of like him in spite of everybody telling me what a piece of shit he is.
And you're going to have dinner, just the two of you?
Yes, just the two of us, and to be honest I was the one who asked.
During the following 30 minutes I got a lot of information, not necessarily in that order:
- He told Carla to forget most of the diplomatic corps -- uninteresting and pointless -- but not Susanne, because Susanne is cool and very unlike the others.
- He often doesn't respond to messages and mails, because he keeps forgetting his glasses and is far-sighted, i.e. he just can't read or write without them (Bugger. I actually find that endearing. Makes me think of Some Like It Hot...)
- He's very difficult to work with, due to extreme moodiness; also because once he decides you're his enemy, he puts you firmly in that corner and you don't stand much chance of getting out again
-He doesn't take direct criticism very well but is clever enough to understand it when you do it in a roundabout way
- He's more or less paranoid when it comes to his staff -- see above -- so it would be better not to mention, at least at first, that I know some of them rather well, to say nothing about the stories they told me
-According to Carla, my chances were by no means bad, because she knew for a fact that he liked me. If I could find it in myself to flatter the male ego a bit and be sweet and attentive, she'd bet he'd be eating out of my hand in no time.
-Still according to her, he is rather desperate for female company but would actually prefer someone clever and with some backbone to silly bimbos who are after him only because he's important
-If I actually succeeded in getting the guy and making him happy, so that his mood would improve, the employees of [...] would worship me like a goddess, and numerous firstborns would be sacrificed to my greatness.
Unless she's one of the nastiest bitches who ever walked this earth, and I somehow don't believe she is, that's rather encouraging.
So Mr H and I had dinner. Given my rather exuberant mood, being nice and sweet and attentive wasn't overly difficult. I didn't overdo it, though, because 1) pretending to be something I'm not is stupid for more than one reason and 2) he knows me already, so being the opposite of what I used to be would trigger paranoia rather than have a positive effect.
I think I did quite well, though, and we had a very nice time. Much nicer than at our first dinner. Since he's a very interesting person to talk to, aside from the gorgeousness and all that, I certainly didn't have to feign interest in what he was saying. After 15 minutes or so he seemed to understand that he didn't have to be constantly defensive (wow, talk about being paranoid), because I (honestly) wasn't aiming at judging his political views but merely wanted to have a discussion.
I even got the possibility to be sweet and nice (OMG what has the world come to...), because when he actually apologized for being tired and not in a very sociable mood (YAY! I thought, he went to dinner with me in spite of not feeling sociable! That has to be a good sign!) I said that I was enjoying his company a lot, but that we could repeat the experience when he was feeling more sociable, so I'd probably enjoy myself even more. *snort* Well, it wasn't a lie, because I really did enjoy myself.
Following Carla's advice, and also because I'd planned to do so anyway, I snatched the bill and paid for our dinner -- bright smile and Thank you.
When we left the restaurant, I gave myself a mental kick in the butt and took his arm, and said, "Tell me honestly, should I take a taxi? Because you're tired, and you don't have to drive me home."
No, of course he'd take me home, I didn't live far from his place anyway.
Yes I know, but sometimes even five minutes can be too much. (sweet and caring, remember?)
No, absolutely not, I'm taking you home.
When in the car, my butt got another mental kick, and I said, Look, I'd really like to repeat this, but I'm not quite sure of my welcome -- you're rather busy and important, is it ok if I call you and ask you, or should I wait for you to call? (I'm all for honesty, and besides I believe in offering people the easy way out, because if they don't take it, I feel a lot more self-assured)
Yes, let's do it again soon, and please do call, I'm neither that busy nor that important.
Well I know you are, but now you've reassured me, and I'm going to call you anyway.
Then we arrived at my place and said good night. He was a bit out of reach, and so I said, "Are you just leaning back, or don't you want a goodbye kiss?" So he got it, or rather two, on the rather stubbly cheeks, because I thought that being bold was ok, but too much boldness might be bad for the male ego, at least for the time being.
OK, that's it more or less. There's squee mixed with zen, so I'd say cautious enthusiasm. Only time will tell, but zenitude is still sufficiently intact for me to be patient about it, and the fact that I'd (almost) completely gone off him in the meantime means that there still is a healthy distance. But yes, I'm very, very glad I talked to Carla, and that the evening turned out as it did. Not to mention that I'm incredibly proud of myself for having overcome my rampant insecurities and actually asked him out.
And now I have to run. A very good day to everybody!
So, in chronological order:
Contrary to all expectations, the weather was fine yesterday, warm with a lot of sunshine, so we could play our double on the open court. I'd agreed with Valentina that the two of us would start at 12 already, to be joined at 12.30 by Mr H and Pinar.
He arrived punctually, but Pinar was running late. Seeing as I'd already warmed up for half an hour, I offered to Mr H that he could have a solo warm-up with Valentina, too, while I sat in the sun, ogling him in a rather unobtrusive way (wearing sunglasses, and when two people are playing, watching them is the most natural thing on earth. Heh)
Then Pinar arrived, and we played our double, which we finished around 13.30. Mr H then excused himself, because he had to go to the office and get some work done; Pinar and I had a rather fun half-hour lesson with Valentina, and afterwards we had coffee.
Went home, showered, got prettied up and dressed, and in the 15 or so remaining minutes before I had to call the taxi and go to meet Carla, I had an epic fight with myself re. calling Mr H and asking him out to dinner. I finally decided that I was going to do it during the taxi ride, and I did it. And he said yes.
Attitude of cool zenitude was severely damaged. Taxi driver was somewhat astonished but obviously couldn't resist my very sunny smile and thus decided not to take me straight to the psychiatric clinic in Bardovci.
Carla and I got into some serious girl talk right away and were having a great time. She was planning to go to the cinema with some friends and asked me whether I'd like to come, too. I said I had a dinner and so couldn't come, sorry.
Was it work-related?
Erm, yes.
So cancel it and come with us instead, we're going to have fun.
Erm, no, it's not so bad actually.
Then the girl talk got to a point where I thought, screw it, I'm going to tell her. Might be the biggest mistake I've made in a long time, but sometimes you just have to trust your instincts.
So while we were having a cigarette outside, I told her that I was going to have dinner with her boss.
With a smile as bright as a Christmas tree on steroids, she said, "Really? REALLY? Do you actually like him?"
Well, I'm trying not to, because liking guys with whom I know I don't stand a chance isn't good for the self-esteem. But yes, I do kind of like him in spite of everybody telling me what a piece of shit he is.
And you're going to have dinner, just the two of you?
Yes, just the two of us, and to be honest I was the one who asked.
During the following 30 minutes I got a lot of information, not necessarily in that order:
- He told Carla to forget most of the diplomatic corps -- uninteresting and pointless -- but not Susanne, because Susanne is cool and very unlike the others.
- He often doesn't respond to messages and mails, because he keeps forgetting his glasses and is far-sighted, i.e. he just can't read or write without them (Bugger. I actually find that endearing. Makes me think of Some Like It Hot...)
- He's very difficult to work with, due to extreme moodiness; also because once he decides you're his enemy, he puts you firmly in that corner and you don't stand much chance of getting out again
-He doesn't take direct criticism very well but is clever enough to understand it when you do it in a roundabout way
- He's more or less paranoid when it comes to his staff -- see above -- so it would be better not to mention, at least at first, that I know some of them rather well, to say nothing about the stories they told me
-According to Carla, my chances were by no means bad, because she knew for a fact that he liked me. If I could find it in myself to flatter the male ego a bit and be sweet and attentive, she'd bet he'd be eating out of my hand in no time.
-Still according to her, he is rather desperate for female company but would actually prefer someone clever and with some backbone to silly bimbos who are after him only because he's important
-If I actually succeeded in getting the guy and making him happy, so that his mood would improve, the employees of [...] would worship me like a goddess, and numerous firstborns would be sacrificed to my greatness.
Unless she's one of the nastiest bitches who ever walked this earth, and I somehow don't believe she is, that's rather encouraging.
So Mr H and I had dinner. Given my rather exuberant mood, being nice and sweet and attentive wasn't overly difficult. I didn't overdo it, though, because 1) pretending to be something I'm not is stupid for more than one reason and 2) he knows me already, so being the opposite of what I used to be would trigger paranoia rather than have a positive effect.
I think I did quite well, though, and we had a very nice time. Much nicer than at our first dinner. Since he's a very interesting person to talk to, aside from the gorgeousness and all that, I certainly didn't have to feign interest in what he was saying. After 15 minutes or so he seemed to understand that he didn't have to be constantly defensive (wow, talk about being paranoid), because I (honestly) wasn't aiming at judging his political views but merely wanted to have a discussion.
I even got the possibility to be sweet and nice (OMG what has the world come to...), because when he actually apologized for being tired and not in a very sociable mood (YAY! I thought, he went to dinner with me in spite of not feeling sociable! That has to be a good sign!) I said that I was enjoying his company a lot, but that we could repeat the experience when he was feeling more sociable, so I'd probably enjoy myself even more. *snort* Well, it wasn't a lie, because I really did enjoy myself.
Following Carla's advice, and also because I'd planned to do so anyway, I snatched the bill and paid for our dinner -- bright smile and Thank you.
When we left the restaurant, I gave myself a mental kick in the butt and took his arm, and said, "Tell me honestly, should I take a taxi? Because you're tired, and you don't have to drive me home."
No, of course he'd take me home, I didn't live far from his place anyway.
Yes I know, but sometimes even five minutes can be too much. (sweet and caring, remember?)
No, absolutely not, I'm taking you home.
When in the car, my butt got another mental kick, and I said, Look, I'd really like to repeat this, but I'm not quite sure of my welcome -- you're rather busy and important, is it ok if I call you and ask you, or should I wait for you to call? (I'm all for honesty, and besides I believe in offering people the easy way out, because if they don't take it, I feel a lot more self-assured)
Yes, let's do it again soon, and please do call, I'm neither that busy nor that important.
Well I know you are, but now you've reassured me, and I'm going to call you anyway.
Then we arrived at my place and said good night. He was a bit out of reach, and so I said, "Are you just leaning back, or don't you want a goodbye kiss?" So he got it, or rather two, on the rather stubbly cheeks, because I thought that being bold was ok, but too much boldness might be bad for the male ego, at least for the time being.
OK, that's it more or less. There's squee mixed with zen, so I'd say cautious enthusiasm. Only time will tell, but zenitude is still sufficiently intact for me to be patient about it, and the fact that I'd (almost) completely gone off him in the meantime means that there still is a healthy distance. But yes, I'm very, very glad I talked to Carla, and that the evening turned out as it did. Not to mention that I'm incredibly proud of myself for having overcome my rampant insecurities and actually asked him out.
And now I have to run. A very good day to everybody!
