German Dinner

I was asked to play in a polo tournament this weekend, but as I had a dinner to go to on Saturday and my flatmate's birthday was on Sunday, I decided to pass. Gosh, I am getting so blasé about these things. At one point in time, I would have been tripping over myself at the opportunity to play in a polo tournament, but now I pass them up because I just can't be bothered to fit it all in?

Anyway, the reason for passing it up was that I'd been invited to drinks and dinner on Saturday. A friend of mine from my Balliol days, who I'd done a horrible job of keeping in contact with since I'd arrived in London, was already leaving again to go back to Germany. Yet luckily I got the invite for the leaving dinner, and so was determined to make it to this one event.

I arrived shortly after drinks were due to begin at 7, and found a small crowd of about 7 people standing with my friend, Markus, outside a pub. Markus fetched me a gin and tonic (what a lovely boy!) and I settled in to chat with a German guy and his girlfriend, both of whom seemed very nice. I was surprised as people kept arriving how large the crowd became, until I was sure there were at least 30-40 people there. Particularly surprising for a Saturday event that had only been planned on Tuesday, but I guess goes to show you how dear Markus is to his friends, that so many would make it, even at the last minute.

I found myself quite delighted when our little conversational group was joined by a tall Czech man whose body and jaw-line were chiselled to such perfection, I found myself wondering what he looked like with his shirt off, despite myself. You know the stereotype of the banker who hides a gym-buff's body underneath a starched white shirt and jeans? Oh yes, that was this man.

Even more to my delight, this scrumptious bit of manliness seemed to have decided that I was the most attractive of all the women there, and so focused his attention on me. Okay, this wasn't lightning bolts or electric chemistry (how could I ever fall for a man who was planning on going into the office on a Sunday?), but the sheer pleasure of bathing in the attention of a man whose abs I could make out under his dress shirt was absolutely making my evening.

As the conversational groups continued to grow and widen, we were joined by a British chap who didn't have quite the sheer physical attractiveness of the Czech man, but who had a brilliant sense of humour (and the wit that comes with being a native English speaker that no person who speaks English as a foreign language can ever quite match, regardless of their facility with the language). So I enjoyed talking to him too, and listening to his stories of driving cars and learning to shoot guns in the countryside, and laughed my head off.

Then, as it was nearly 9 PM, it was time to make our way into dinner, at a restaurant just across the road from the pub. Now, this is where dinners can be made or broken, in my experience. If there is someone you wish to sit near at dinner, you have to be very careful to stay near them as the group moves, so that when you all file into seats, seemingly at random, you will remain sitting next to, or at least near, the person you wish to get to know better. So, having looked around and determined that I'd already met the two best conversational partners of the evening, my goal was to sit next to them at dinner. Hence, I walked at a careful pace, making sure they were near.

As we walked over to dinner, I then got the biggest surprise when I ran into Judith, a girl who used to be on my course at Oxford, who now lives just around the corner from me in London, and who I have been meaning to get together with for ages. And here she was, right at the same dinner! So I quickly said hello, but had to rush to keep with the group heading into dinner! Augh, panic! If I lost the boys I wanted to sit with, I might be doomed to spend the evening next to the awkward Indian smoking man!

So scooted into dinner, and as everyone sorted the seats, found myself next to the English chap, across from the Czech man, Markus on my left (hurrah, a chance to catch up!) and Judith across from him. I couldn't have designed the seating arrangement any more perfectly!

I had a lovely time at dinner, listening to funny stories from the English chap, and basking in the attention of the Czech man. The boys occasionally got into talking about finance, which only reconfirmed my opinion that I'm glad I don't work in finance. (Everyone was planning to go into the office on Sunday. I mean, it's one thing to work from home on a Sunday, but go into the office? Ick!) Also had a great time chatting with Markus, who has never had any appropriate sense of personal space (way too much touching at the table), but that's just the way he is and he tells great stories, so I just sat back to enjoy it.

Throughout the meal, the brought out chilled shot glasses and pepper vodka, and so we all ended up having a few shot toasts. Surprisingly I found the vodka somewhat nice when simply sipped (although it did do a good job of clearing out my sinuses). The Czech man then revealed that he didn't drink, having given it up about a year previously. It led to some interesting discussion (although I never like how people who drink berate people who don't as though there is something wrong with them), although it did make me wonder why drinking is one of those "all or nothing" things for so many people? I made some jokes about how I've given up hangovers, but it's really the honest-to-goodness truth. I basically decided never to get drunk again, to simply drink in moderation, and to enjoy the crisp and clear snap of a pepper vodka, but to just never to have too much of it. So I get the experience, with none of the bad hangovers. Why on earth does moderation seem to be such a tricky thing for so many people, so that it's all or nothing?

Finally, we ended the evening with assurances to go home and all befriend each other on Facebook. So I got home and looked up the English chap and the Czech man, although I had to laugh when I saw the birthday of the Czech man: 1987!!! No wonder he had been such a prime example of exquisite male form, as he was only 22!! Okay, so while I was never going to fall for such a workaholic anyway, it reinforced the idea that this one was not going anywhere. Ah, but as the saying goes, "I wouldn't kick him out of my bed." I wouldn't mind keeping him around just so I could look at him.... preferably with his shirt off.

The English chap accepted my friend request and almost immediately invited me to his birthday party next month. Looking at the list, he's just invited about everyone he knows, but still kind of interesting to invite a girl you've just met. Still, he was good fun, wouldn't mind spending more time with him or the kinds of people such a funny guy is sure to be friends with. Perhaps I shall go.

Still no word from the English chap I ran into before my parents came to visit, but this is where the book "He's Just Not That Into You" is such a wonderful bible to keep on hand, as I find that I just really don't care. I mean, I like the boy and if he comes around, I'll be thrilled to go out with him, but I find I don't waste too much energy wondering about if he will or not. I've got a dinner to go to on Tuesday, a party on Wednesday, and then Friday, Saturday, and Sunday away in Salisbury, and I just got invited to a book signing and another birthday party. Opportunities abound, even if one boy doesn't come up to scratch...

Which is the attitude I had when I came home, to find my flatmate in quite a funk, as at midnight it became her 33rd birthday, and she was a bit depressed about being single. Yet, I managed to cheer her up in just a few moments, by playing a clip from the web, a voicemail recording of a really sleazy man calling a girl he was trying to hit on. (Listen to the clip here). Oh my, how much better is it to remain single than to have to deal with men like that?

Still, a fantastic evening, with lovely, wonderful, cute boys. They're out there, really they are.