The Forgotten Girl, Part II: Date Roulette

Who are you again?

I often have trouble remembering new girls’ faces. It gets me into all sorts of trouble. Like when meeting for a first date in a busy place. Or when inadvertently re-approaching a girl in a club. Or when joining a girl at the hostel breakfast table, thinking she’s the girl I had sex with the night before (true story). And apparently I also find it difficult to remember who a girl is from her WhatsApp profile picture, when she messages out of the blue and I didn’t note down her name after the initial set.

In my previous post, I said I was 95% sure who my date was with this evening (Sunday). I knew her name, I knew I’d approached her two weeks earlier, and I knew that in her picture she really looked like the girl I thought (and hoped!) she was. Well, I was right to be only part-sure… because she turned out to be someone completely different! I ended up turning up to the date and meeting a different girl I’d also number-closed two weeks ago, and who I’d also completely forgotten about…

The date was originally scheduled for 4pm. It was now 4.30pm, and we were both behind schedule. I finesse the last-minute messaging and ensure I arrive two minutes after her. Rolling up to the meeting point, I always try to call the girl and get her on the phone. As I stroll up to find her, she gets to hear my voice. And I get to hear her voice…

And so it was at this point, 20 metres away from the Tube station, that I don’t hear an Irish fashion student’s voice on the other end of the phone at all. I suddenly hear a familiar South African girl’s voice answer the phone. My mind started to scramble. So who was this?? Fortunately my voice didn’t betray me as I continued walking and carrying the conversation to meet this currently-unknown, likely-South African girl. Then I saw her, holding the phone to her ear. Five-foot-four, curvy body but tight waist, big bright eyes, brunette hair, cheeks with dimples. Looking directly at me with a big, beaming smile as we continued talking on the phone. Very cute appearance.

Oh shit! It all came back to me in that moment. It was the smart-ass South African au pair living in South West London. I’d met her on the Strand, with Mr S watching from across the street. She’d had great verbal wit for a girl with limited life experience (she was only 19), but she seemed to follow the social norm a bit too much. She also wasn’t very compliant in the original set, and she had immediately labelled me as a player, as well as exhibiting K-selected traits and judgements [1].

But it appeared that perhaps I’d left more of an impression on her than I had initially thought. After all, she’d broken convention and had messaged me first, totally out of the blue. And she’d ventured out of her way to meet me in Angel. And she sure was looking chirpy this evening. Was this unlikely girl actually on?

I had my answer 30 seconds later. And unfortunately it wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.

“So I only have until 6pm and then I need to head to Wembley arena for a Christmas Carol concert.” Big expectant smile.

Me: “Errrm…okay.” Deadpan poker face.

Anyway, it was still a fun date–all dates are. And I’m sure there were some lessons I took from it. For one, I got to practise my under-escalate-and-disqualify strategy for when I know the lay isn’t on. I’ve sure messed up in the past, over-heating the girl and not focusing on the main goal: which is to set up strong foundations for a Day 3.

So after 90 minutes or so, we say our goodbyes at the station. At this point I’m not sure whether I want to see her again or not–on one hand she’s girly and attractive, but on the other I stick to my initial impression that she’d be a pain in the arse over many dates. Or maybe she’s seen enough of me anyway, and is ready to move on herself. But whatever the case, 30 seconds later I’ve put all this to the back of my mind and am busy opening a Colombian girl who has her legs on show in the pouring rain [2], for my fourteenth and final set of the week.

As a last remark, I was actually quite close to having this date filmed at very late notice. It didn’t happen though, which wasn’t the end of the world given the short duration of the date. But I would like to get an extended date on camera–I think the learning points would be massive [3]. Maybe next time… 

Jamie.

[1] It was probably these K-selected traits which put me off messaging her, because I certainly found her attractive. I’m pretty lazy at following up with leads when my gut tells me they won’t go anywhere.

[2] Coincidently, I ended up number-closing her at a bus stop just 20 seconds from where I’d previously met another Colombian girl four months ago. And with that one I went on to get my Colombian flag–a good omen!

[3] Plus I’d have a cool trophy if it were a sexcess.

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