Moving on...
This weekend was quite intriguing to say the least. I managed to navigate the London tube line all by myself, so that I could meet some folks at the Apollo Theatre near the Victoria station. I met up with Lynn, Leanne, her bloke Ramel/Raymel (don't know which spelling is right), Margo and Jill (new social worker from the States) in front of the theatre to see WICKED.The short and the long of the music al goes like this....
Long before Dorothy dropped in, two other girls meet in the Land of Oz. One, born with emerald-green skin, is smart, fiery and misunderstood. The other is beautiful, ambitious and very popular. These two unlikely friends end up as the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good. You also find out how the Scarecrow, the Lion and the Tin Man ended up in their predicament. By the end of the musical you literally feel like the Wizard of Oz pulled the wool over your eyes and you end up rooting for the Wicked Witch. I loved this play however the music good have been a bit better. Only one song pulled on my heart strings...having friends makes you a better person.
Romantically,
I glimpsed a handsome, 6ft, African man at a busstop last weekend while partying in London with Leanne and a friend from Rome nicknamed Cherry Tree aka V Train. I was actually having one of my famous conversations with an inanimate object. So the busstop sign refused to comply with my request that it reveal the bus that we needed to take back to my house. I happened to noticed this man looking at me and we shared a smile. Leanne comes over to me after I walked away saying that he was checking me out. I told her it wasn't true and she attempted to threaten me by saying that she was going to get his number. Up for a laugh, I double/triple dared her to do it. She went over to him and his first question 'where is your friend?' So she got his number.
Couple of days later I called Dave whom I have nicknamed Potty Mouth Dave aka PMD. We had a pretty good conversation...he drilled me for information. It was like playing 20 questions. He is 37, from Camaroon/Nigeria, has 7 siblings, no kids, is a marketing consultant, last relationship was year and a half ago, owns property and hilarious. The decision was made to meet him at his house with Leanne and her friend Ramel/Raymel and he would cook for us. (Yall know how much I love a man that can cook!) This would be a group thing and afterward we could decide whether we would go on a first date. Before getting off the phone to take a shower, he told me 'make sure you wash your vital areas, because someone has a special interest in your vital areas.' Hmmm...did not know how to take that one. So true to form I laughed it off.
So we had a couple more phone calls before Dday and he send lots of sweet text messages. So on Sunday I went and picked up Leanne and Ramel/Rayme l and we got stupidly lost trying to find his house. I ran two red lights (Corinna shut up!) and screamed my head off. We laughed so hard trying to find his house I swear my sides felt like they were splitting. We finally made and his home was beautiful. He rents out the top three bedrooms and his bedroom his off the kitchen. While showing us his room, he offhandedly mentions 'oh this is input my name bed.' Okay that is bit forward. Hmmm...how can I have a bed designated to me and this is our first face to face contact.
The dinner spread was immense...fish, chicken, lamb, fried rice, African rice, kidney beans, plantain, beer, two bottles of wine, and Bulgarian liquor (tastes like gin/vodka, real smooth). He really tried to impress me. Throughout the meal PMD was quiet, Ramel/Raymel was a real trooper and made effort after effort to engage PMD in conversation. It worked for a while, however Leanne, Ray (shortened Ramel/Raymel's name) myself ended up talking amongst ourselves. The Bulgarian liquor bottle is round at the bottom, however the neck of the bottle was long and slender. Ray commented that the bottle was unusual. PMD said 'it is good for someone to sit on.' Hmmm...who would sit on that. What freaky deaky shit is he into?
So the wonderful evening had to come to an end. We enjoyed ourselves and were full beyond belief. I was sent home with mounds of food and the infamous Bulgarian liquor bottle. Once Leanne and Ray had piled into the car, I went to have the perfunctory hug with PMD. By that time I came to the decision that I was not necessarily attracted to him. He looks great on paper...has everything going for him, however there was nothing else there. PMD had other ideas. I had to think quick in order to run a way from the lips that were attempting to connect with mine.
Later on that night I called PMD on the way home and told him that I appreciated everything that he had done. He called me back once I arrived home. So we had the big discussion about whether we would go out again on an official date. I told him that I thought we would be better suited as friends (deja vu, except I was on the recieving end of the bad news) and that I not attracted to him. He was quiet for a moment and told me that I should not have come to that decision on my own (What!) and that he was not a part of the decision-making process. He said that he still liked me and that it was not going to change. I told him that I understood completely how he felt and that I have been in his postion before and you can not necessarily turn off how you feel about a person. I explained that I had no problems being friends with him and think that he is a wonderful person. A bit quirky, but so am I. So we left it at that and as the British say...it is done and dusted.
British Words Learned
Locum= Temporary worker
Choc-a-bloc= busy 'The motorway is choc-a-bloc'
minger= ugly inside and outside
Christmas cracker= Here is the back story...
In 1847, almost by accident, Tom Smith invented the cracker. It was a simple idea which became an integral part of British celebration and tradition which still continues today, 150 years on. In it's simple form a cracker is a small cardboard tube covered in a brightly coloured twist of paper. When the cracker is 'pulled' by two people, each holding one end of the twisted paper, the friction creates a small explosive 'pop' produced by a narrow strip of chemically impregnated paper. The cardboard tube tumbles a bright paper hat, a small gift, a balloon and a motto or joke. Contents were tailored to each box; grotesque or artistic masks, puzzles, conundrums, tiny treasures, jewels, games and mottoes, and most of the beautifully illustrated boxes, crackers and hats, from fezzes to sheiks'' head dresses, were made by hand.
