IJWTBF

In which the (genuinely innocent) parties will be given the names "Keith" and "Mary".

Mary is a coworker who is very pretty, bubbly, with a very strong personality- outspoken, emotional, intense, and very likeable. She carries a few extra pounds of delicious around the middle which she offsets with the legs of a Vegas Showgirl, long swinging hair, gorgeous full lips, perfect skin, very fashionable, flattering clothes, and a great smile. Anyhow, not suprizingly, she has a battalion of male admirers, some of which are bad boys who show up with hickeys on their neck on their second date, and some of which are sweet, hopeless male friends.

Enter Keith. Keith is 32, reasonably good looking, well dressed, educated, a perfect gentleman, sweet as buko pandan, and as such hasn't a chance with Mary, who, if anything, is *more* into Vin Diesel types than I am.

Mary, like anyone with half a brain, stumbles on the "perfect" solution: She's got a nice single girlfriend, who's in dire need of a nice guy, she's got an "extra man" hanging around giving her just a bit too much attention....

Enter THE SETUP.

"I've got a man for you!" She tells me. Naturally I'm skeptical, but finally I cave. "Is he good looking?" I ask, as she describes his "great personality".

"Be honest."

"BALDO!" she screams across the campus at our coworker.

"IS KEITH GOOD LOOKING?" (Keith used to work for my program before moving on to other ventures).

Baldo thinks about it.

"HE'S AN EIGHT." Yells Baldo, mortifying me. Great, now I'm locked in. "Okay, let's not make this a worldwide affair (way too late for that, as we'll see later).

I can't say "no" to an "eight" or that makes me look like I think I'm better than an eight, which I AIN'T.

Anyway, Mary facilitates the number exchange, and is beside herself with glee, no doubt thinking it's A LOCK. All her problems are solved and besides which she's helped a girl who just got done wrong.

I asked my one coworker who knows him "what do you think of Keith? Mary wants to set me up with him." and his handsome little face crumpled a bit, trying to find the right words. "I think he might be a little too ner-dee for you" he said. "But he's so nice! He's so sweet! Give him a chance!" Oh groan. In for a penny, in for a nerd.

So Saturday day I text Keith and invite him to join me and a group of friends at Hacienda that night, but he declines in a very Newbold Archer note, extremely formal, and asking if instead we can have coffee the next day.
We make plans and he says he'll let Mary know.
Uh, okaaayyyy, whateves. At this stage I'm just a hollow shell of my dating self anyway, what the hell, I'll play along.

Sunday I had to DRAG myself to this assignation, but I told myself "To the victor belong the spoils of war." Or something. Anyhow, it beats a stick in the eye.

As soon as I saw him I thought "nope." And it wasn't looks! As tall as I am, well formed with clean, regular, albeit very "Asian" features, dressed cool but not trendy, with long "curly" (that's what they call wavy hair here- everything but pin straight hair is called "kulot"--curly) hair, he just had no....

zing. No "it." No fire. No impishness. No playfulness. No zazz. None of that edge that you get from certain men- that "something"- that glint in their eye, that swag, that daring. He was totally sexless. He may have well as been a woman for all that he lit a fire in my belly (and sad to say some women have turned my head more efficiently).

We actually had a very nice conversation, he was a perfect gentleman, nice, educated, perfect English, not shy or nervous (maybe a little nervous), but the main thing here is that he wasn't any too interested in me either because he's IN LOVE WITH MARY.

I felt like I was on a date with a married couple. He used the phrase "we" meaning him and her. He called her "his salvation" (they act as each other's "walkers" for formal events since they're both single). He teased her that she should be in the fashion show that was on at the mall that day. He automatically handed her his cigarettes when she was out since "WE" smoke. He pulled her out of the way of a suspect movie goer who was staggering around in a scary way. He teased her with just a touch of bitterness about "man hunting" when she commented on the hotties in the mall.

Mama didn't raise no fool. I had given up the minute I laid eyes on him so I just enjoyed observing the interactions like an anthropologist; "Observe how Mary insists that our heroine rides in the front seat, in a last ditch attempt to create sparks where there are so clearly none." Heh.

At least the movie was okay. 3 stars out of 4, Pirates of the Caribbean is vintage Johnny Depp. Swashbuckling Bonanaza with only one thorn in my side, which is the priest who falls in love with the FUCKING MUTE mermaid. "Oh, I love you, perfect, helpless, mute 16 year old. I know you're different because you're so beautiful and helpless." PUKE!! Other than that, you'll have to wait for the full review.


Yesterday at work an unable to contain herself coworker busts up to me (naturally four feet away from the ex, who has ears like a freakin' satellite dish and knows everything about everyone--ironically one of the things I found attractive about him) "So! You went out with Keith!! How did it go?!"

"He's greeeeaattt. Perfect gentleman. Handsome, total package."

"Any sparks?" She presses.

I shake my head, and laugh.

"Give him a chance! He's too awesome!"

" No chemistry." I say with finality. "He is great, but..." I shake my head.

"I guess you don't go for nice guys, just crooked ones like that one-" she indicates the ex, right behind her.

"No comment." I laugh and roll my eyes.

Nothin' like being "Hollywood Royalty" or "A list Gay" (as Kez would put it). I've noticed that wherever I land there's a bit of a stir. And I always complain about it while dating the most conspicuous (Jean Claude, anyone) big baller in town. And then I am "crushed by the weight of my own celebrity" and then I go into hiding and then I move and then it starts all over. Heh.