Tsuffering tsuccotash!

I had an epiphany. Mind you, it is probably as correct as my interpretation of Inception- which is.... FAIL! Soleil, you have NO idea what you are talking about but this one's worth a shot:

The flawless guy is boring. I have decided that I actually like flaws, or let me elaborate, I hate MOST, but some of them I actually find endearing. Take the crooked smile, for example. It's cute. I actually LOVE the crooked smile. The cooking failure,the messy slob, the bad shower singer, the daggy dancer, the guy that owns a guitar but doesn't know how to play it without sounding as melodic as a cat fight, the guy who drinks vodka and cranberry over beer or bourban. All of these things are okay with me. And it may surprise you to know, there are MANY other 'flaws' that I could happily put in this category. Even contentious ones that other girls just could not tolerate. My list does not exclude smokers, I have continued to date problem gamblers and even alcoholics well after their flaws have been uncovered. Bad boys.... You make me go weak at the knees! So, where I am judged for being too judgmental, I am grateful for my ability to unpack the flaws of my suitors. It saves me time. It saves them money. And now..... I proceed to do so with my latest venture, Lawyer from Brighton.

My friend was over to help me get ready for the date. Now, first date jitters don't seem to exist anymore when you are a dating veteran. Especially when while showing my friend Lawyer from Brighton's photograph, she conceded that he was fat and she would not date him. But I was committed to the cause, I thought it might have been muscle and was keen to find out. So, off I went to a little Italian restaurant in Bay Street.

He looked much older than the guys I date. And this is because he was. He was as old as my siblings- there is an 8 year gap there. In fact, he may have even been older... but not by much. The menu was limiting- but he tried to say that it was good. When I ordered water, the waiter opened a bottle of Mount Franklin without asking. We live in Melbourne. What is wrong with tap water? Doesn't he know it's better for your teeth? Anyway, after a massive, garlic infused pizza AND pasta (I had swum a kilometre the night beforehand and I was sooooo hungry as a result) I felt comfortable enough that he wasn't going to kiss me and we could just concentrate on having a little fun.

He was nervous. I could tell because he appeared a little intimidated. I retreat into my shell in the same way around co-workers and people in authority. It sucks. It's a flaw. But I have the same flaw, hence, it cannot be criticised too harshly.

He had a lisp. Hence the title of this blog. I was debating on whether or not to rename him Sylvester. It would be quicker to type, that's for sure. Ever watched 'Mad Men'? Sally has a lisp. She's a cute kid, but that lisp tends to annoy me. Having said that, I wonder if after being bombarded with that annoyance, like a diabetic having to take insulin injections everyday, would it become more tolerable? And there we have it- a multi-faceted 'epiphanic' view of flaws. But it's yet to be tested. Or is it? When I treated my last relationship as an arranged marriage and HIS flaws as annoyance bombardment, it failed. So, maybe I should just stick to my guns. Maybe I am becoming too worn down by other people's criticisms of my pickiness. Maybe I should just go out and say it. It's over. Sylvester and Tweety. We all know who wears the pants in THAT relationship.

In my arrogance, I asked him about the rating scale of women. 1-10. And he rated me. This was a test to see how much of a bullshit artist he really was. After all, he's a lawyer. Bullshitting is often a prerequisite- especially for a rich one. He stated that in the cute, smart and funny stakes, funny (which also includes personality) was the most important, with cute being the least important. My lowest rating from him was in intelligence and my highest in cute.... HE GOT IT BACK TO FRONT! Mind you, he was coaxed by a girl into a lose-lose situation, and if he was the irresistible kind of bad boy I tend to fall for, he should have stayed tight lipped, BUT HE DIDN'T!

My egocentric ratings of myself:

Cute 6
Funny 7
Smart 8
Guitar Hero 9
Piano playing 5
Wealth and Affluence 7
Hospitality to guests 6

His embellished 'I want to get into your pants' ratings of yours truly:

Smart 8
Funny 8.5
Cute 9
Guitar hero -
Wealth and Affluence -
Hospitality to guests -

My ratings of HIM:

Smart 7
Funny 6
Cute 5
Guitar Hero 6
Piano playing 1 (Why does he have a keyboard if he can't even play it? Yes, I know I said I don't mind this in second paragraph. MY BAD!)
Wealth and Affluence 9 (SUCH a beautiful car! SUCH a massive TV! A well decked out apartment in Brighton too! But..... stingy in Guitar Hero [I told him to buy the expensive guitar and he complained- I fear the worst here]
Hospitality to guests 6 (He was affluent, but NO coffee machine. I DON'T want Nescafe blend 43, the chocolate in the pantry was old and white in colour (throw it out, DUDE!) and why did HE get to start off on Guitar Hero?)

OK. If I were to go to a clairvoyant, they would say:

"Soleil, when you hit 34, don't expect him to pay for your botox. He can't even spend fake money on Guitar Hero. He will let himself go and is only going to a personal trainer on the premise that he needs to look half decent for a girl and lose the overhang. You love bacon too much to convert to Judaism..... but the fact that he owns your dream car and that you KNOW you have him twisted around your little finger, could make this fun for you for about one month."

Clairvoyant. What a waste of money. I know myself enough to know this is true. Now I'm salivating over that car. As Homer Simpson says while salivating, "Ughghghghghghghgh!"