Yet when I woke up to check my phone, she had texted that smoke had filled the cockpit, and the plane had made an emergency landing in Shannon, Ireland! So there would be no meeting at 10:30 AM, as they were still stuck in Ireland! I couldn't believe how calm she sounded, and apologetic about the delay, but I assured her that whenever she managed to get to London, I would still be happy to meet her for dinner in the evening.
Now with a free day, I went to the local mall in search of a ballgown for the ball I was due to go to at the weekend. Although I still loved my dress from the year before, I didn't feel I could wear it two years in a row, and so had been searching for something that might zip up, but thus far hadn't had any luck.
In the end, although it cost more than I would have liked (£66!), and I did have to go up a size to get a dress that would zip properly, it looked good, and I realised I would regret it if I didn't buy it, so I went for it.
Then got a call from the Tall South African suggesting that we needed to meet up. I suggested meeting him at High Street Kensington, as it was getting close to the time that I might meet my American friend at her hotel, to which he agreed. He wondered whether or not he should bring The Blonde with him, a decision that I left up to him. So he decided to come by himself. Funny about that...
When I got to High Street Kensington, he called and said he was stuck at Earl's Court, so could I come meet him there? I did so, we greeted each other, and then he suggested that we might walk back towards my friend's hotel.
This is where I hate Apple Maps, as the iOS6 maps led me completely in the wrong direction for 20 minutes, which the Tall South African took great pleasure in teasing me about for some time. Still, it gave us a chance to walk and talk, which is always a good thing.
He'd been out with The Blonde at a party the night before, and his frustration with her sexual history became a bit more clear, when he revealed that the entire evening they kept running into people she'd slept with. And I can sympathise with that at least, because how would you feel if you were going out with a guy, and at every party you went to, it started to seem like he'd slept with all of the women at the party? Sure, even if it was over and in the past, there would be all those overly-familiar greetings, the subtle winks, and the knowledge that whatever the two of you shared, everyone else had already shared it with him before you. I wonder if that's what it's like for Annette Benning, constantly running into Warren Beatty's former flames everywhere they go.
It's so strange, as he complains that the sex is boring (his original rationale for not dating blondes, as he has a theory that all blondes are boring in bed), and yet of course the original reason he wanted to sleep with her was because he assumed her vast sexual experience would make her interesting. So it's really the worst Catch-22, in that all men somehow want a woman who is incredibly sexually adventurous and exciting in bed, although without too much actual sexual experience. There is no way to win that one...
At least I realise one of the things I've done right (I hope) is to keep a low profile on my sexual exploits, usually just by not having any, but also by not telling people about the ones I've had. One of the things that always stuns me about The Blonde when it comes to the people she's slept with, is that people know it. Why on earth do you tell people these things, particularly the guy you're sleeping with who is obviously threatened by it? Again why this blog has such a small readership, as sometimes you really need to learn to keep your mouth shut...
Upon realising that we were totally lost, the Tall South African sorted us out, and we made our way to my friend's hotel, although at this point she was out window shopping. So I told her we'd meet up at the Tube station, where the Tall South African decided to wait with me, and then join us for a drink at a nearby pub. I think my American friend enjoyed meeting the Tall South African, observing our easy banter and how there were obviously no secrets between us. (She was also, I think, amused at how much he knew about her and her flight saga, talking to her all about it. As yes, I'd obviously been telling him stories about her all day long!)
I have to say, I wish I'd had more time to spend with him, but it's nice getting whatever time together that we do. He observed how I'm the only friend that he makes such an effort for, that most people are lucky to see him every few months, but he makes sure to see me every time he comes to London. Yet I don't even think much of it, as if he enjoys my company as much as I enjoy his, that makes perfect sense. It's always good to see him.
After a round of drinks however, he had to leave us to get home for work in the morning, although I went with my American friend for dinner. Once there, we talked about how this was her second stroke of good-luck, as she'd also recently totalled her car in an accident, but walked away unscathed. She just said, "There's always somebody who isn't paying attention at that intersection, and I guess it was just my day to not be paying attention." And I get the feeling the accident wasn't that bad (she rear-ended someone), it was just that the cars were so old the insurance companies declared them to be write-offs and totalled them, rather than fixing them. Although now she says she's doing this insane 1.5 hour commute each way on public transport… I have no idea how she copes!
We talked a bit about being married and having kids (she and her husband are trying, apparently), and she encouraged me to think about signing up with a matchmaker. I'm not sure, but perhaps the idea has merit...
Finally, after a long and delightful dinner, we parted ways, with me being very glad I'd gotten to see her after quite the trip to get here!
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