Wednesday, 26 January 2011

In which I make bad date choices

Some things are date activities; some are not. And, with my wealth of experience in the field, you’da thunk I’d know what falls into which camp by now. Apparently not.

But, in my defence, when The Filmmaker suggested we do dinner and a movie, I didn’t really see what could go wrong. [An aside: he’s a man who says ‘movie’. I’m a girl who says ‘film’. But, whereas I’m in PR, he’s in the industry, so I can’t say anything because he's probably right, but keeping the crazy English-stickler pedantry under wraps is harder than you’d think.]

I met TF outside his office one evening, and we wandered into Soho to grab said dinner before said movie. Diving into a great little Italian place introduced to me by The Metrosexual, we ordered drinks and perused the menu. Having made his decision in a split second, TF waited patiently as choice paralysis threatened to take hold. Eventually, I gave in and ordered what I’m always tempted to, but never dare.

And, some 12 minutes later, it became patently clear to me why I never order squid ink linguine, and especially never in public. And never, ever on a date. Because while it might be endlessly delicious in its squiddy, inky unctuousness, it’s a bloody nightmare to eat.

“Er, you’ve got a little…” TF smiled and pointed to his chin. I dabbed at it with my napkin “No, a little to the left… a bit more… Yeah, um, sort of…”

Which happened at least twice more before I leapt up and scurried to the loo where I found several splashes of squink (gotta love a Nigella-coined phrase) all over my face, lips and - attractively - teeth. Muttering furiously to myself, I made desperate attempts to scrub it all off and cover the worst bits with concealer.

Going back to the table, I eschewed the rest of the linguine and plucked out the remaining chunks of squid, swearing silently to myself that only neutral-coloured food is to be consumed on dates from here on in.

Things weren’t much better once we’d settled into our seats at the cinema. Admittedly, what followed was partly my fault because I agreed to go and see the damned thing. In a peculiar week during awards season in which there was nothing I was too fussed about seeing that I hadn’t already, and because TF did want to see it, we were smack bang in the middle of a screen showing 127 Hours.

I’d even had advanced warning via email.

Are you sure? It is quite gory.

SAW III gory?

No, not quite that bad.

Ok, well I’m sure I’ll be fine.

Hah! Being able to grin and bear one’s way through a short burst of improbable surgery on Grey’s Anatomy does not, apparently, mean you can stomach shot after shot of a man sawing through his tendons with a penknife. Heads up, kids.

Of course, had I thought the situation through, I’d have used the opportunity to play the ‘meek and feeble girl’ card: squealed at the opportune moment and then buried my head in his shoulder.

Not being that smooth, instead I squeaked audibly, pulled my scarf up over my nose, folded my arms over my chest and slumped down the seat, sticking out my tongue and shutting my eyes when the gore got too much.

“So, what did you think?!” TF said, sliding his hand into mine as we left the cinema once all the chopping and severing had stopped.

I think that squid ink and blood are not substances that have any place on a date. You heard it here first.


HC said...

Now, because I am a bit of a bastard, I would almost have certainly slipped a fake hand into yours after watching said film. Chances of a follow-up date would be slim, but at least it would make me chuckle for a while.

Zstep said...

Squid ink pasta? Really? My dear, sometimes you utterly confound me...and 127 Hours, possibly the worst choice of date movie EVER.

The dating Gods are conspiring against you, this is now clear.

jman said...

And why pray tell is film le mot juste when describing what one is going to watch? Movie, short for moving picture, more accurately describes what one is watching, while film merely describes the medium on which it is stored. Perhaps the correct term these days should be a "digital" which sounds like a medical procedure to be avoided at all costs.

Blonde said...

HC: How? How are you married? Evil boy.

Zstep: I know. I know. I still don't know quite why I did it. Either bit. Bonkers. I'd like to claim the gods are against me, but frankly I don't really help myself...

Jman: I associate 'movie' as being the Americanism, and 'film' as being British. And we know what I'm like with Americanisms...

HC said...

I made sure to find someone who had an innately forgiving nature.

Amy said...

Wow. This is a textbook bad date. Kudos to you for bravery on both accounts, though.

I also get annoyed with British people calling films "movies". Not enough to bring it up, but enough to start saying "FILM" with slightly too much emphasis.

Blonde said...

HC: Just as well. Fake hands indeed.

Amy: It was one of the less smooth, definitely. And I'm glad I'm not the only film/movie pedant out there.

theperpetualspiral said...

Well I have got to hand it to you Blonde, squid ink linguine is a very brave first date food choice. Very brave indeed.

I bought the book written by the chap 127 Hours is based on. Shamefully I must admit that after reading a mere five pages I found myself wishing he'd cut his off his head rather than an arm. For that reason I shall steer well clear of that particular motion picture.

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