Another true life dating tale
Can you remember the first film you ever saw? For me, it was one winter afternoon at my infant school, Blue Gate Fields, where at the tender age of six, I watched the Wizard of Oz. I remember being terrified of the wicked witch of the east and loving my favourite character, the Cowardly Lion, which brings me to the subject of today’s post.
The Shallow Man recently held his first Lions and Antelope Social Dining event in Amsterdam. Amongst the many wonderful Antelopes that attended was Florence, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, long-legged fine specimen of Dutch Antelope. At 1.86m, and being pretty stunning, she tends to have quite an effect on Dutch Lions hence her nickname, (given by me) of scary Antelope.
Florence told me about a recent dating experience which goes even further to justify the nickname I’ve given her. Well actually, calling it a dating experience might be pushing things a little too far. Last year, she already told the tale of her encounter with a Brit in Amsterdam, and his attempts at charming the denim off her. I’ve asked her to share her recent experience so that the Lions out there can learn from the mistakes made in this tale. The things I do for my readers!
Over to scary.
A true life dating tale
After my last post, the Shallow Man has lovingly dubbed me “the Scary Antelope”. I’m happy to report that the article sparked some controversy. I am also flattered by the many messages I received as a result, from Lions promising to treat me like the princess that I am. Unfortunately, the Scary Antelope does not date strangers who contact her through Facebook, but she would like to thank you all nonetheless.
I stand accused of being too shallow (assuming there is such a thing as being too shallow). In my defense, I will share another one of my experiences with you.
A few weeks ago I found myself at the house party of a close friend of mine. I was enjoying a glass of champagne (note from the Shallow Man, a potentially high maintenance woman) and merrily chatting to vague acquaintances when I noticed a very handsome Lion across the room. Despite what the Shallow Man tells you about the aggressive nature of Dutch Antelopes, I never make the first move. I simply refuse to. We made eye contact (a clear invitation) and I expected him to walk over to introduce himself, but he didn’t. I was a bit annoyed, to be honest with you. What was the problem? Was I not attractive enough? Impossible. Did he have a girlfriend? That is no reason not to have a friendly chat. Did he have a jealous wife lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on and eliminate the slightest threat of competition? Surely nothing I couldn’t handle.
Whatever the reason, he did not come over. The night continued and so did the drinking. The music changed from pleasant jazzy vibes to danceable electronic music. Finally, my mystery man, now slightly tipsy, worked up the courage (Dutch courage) to introduce himself. His name was Gregg and he seemed like a nice enough fellow. So we sat down to talk, or so I thought.
The Scary Antelope op je hielen
So having finally got Gregg to come over to me and introduce himself, he visibly fell apart. His mouth moved, and words were coming out, I could make out sentences, but there was no distinguishable structure. He reminded me of the guys you sometimes see being arrested on de Politie op je hielen, he spoke, but it was just gibberish. He was stuttering and spluttering, his face was red, he started to break out into a sweat, he was shaking like a guy in the Palladium, paying the drinks bill for a gold digger and praying that the transaction will go through on his card. I felt sorry for him and decided to give him some time to regain his composure (as Commodus in Gladiator said: Am I not merciful?!).
So I left Gregg and walked over to the bar to pour us another drink. The host of the party, Michael said: “I see you’ve been talking to my buddy Gregg.” “Well, I’ve been trying to, I like him, but for some reason, he couldn’t speak. He is just rambling. Is he usually like this with women?” I asked, concerned. “No, not at all” replied the host. “He’s usually quite the ladies-man.” You can understand why I found this hard to believe, as based on the evidence so far, he was as close to being a smooth talker, as Vladimir Putin is an advocate for world peace.
I went back to Gregg and handed him another glass of champagne. Sadly, there was no improvement in his communicative skills, and even the liquid courage I had brought him did not help. The poor dear was struggling to hold a conversation with me. In spite of my nickname, I don’t normally have such a shocking effect on guys. The other guests at the party had started taking notice and soon all eyes were upon us, putting even more pressure on poor Gregg. The rambling went on and on and his face was redder than the national debt of Zimbabwe. This whole thing must have taken at least half an hour. I just sat there, quietly and patiently. At one point Michael was cheering Gregg on (“just go for it, bro. Pull yourself together!”). As if I wasn’t even there, they discussed how he should handle it, “it” being me.
It would be a lie to say I didn’t find it amusing. The whole situation was painfully awkward and actually made me laugh. Eventually, I decided to put Gregg out of his misery and move on. Later on, he did come back to tell me that I was “hard to get” as if that were a bad thing. “First of all, I take that as a compliment,” I told him, “and secondly, call me crazy but I prefer to have a decent conversation with someone before I even begin to entertain the thought of kissing them.”
So it appears I’ll be stuck with my nickname a bit longer, Simon. Unless you’ve got a new one for me?
Advice from the Shallow Man
Firstly, I’d like to thank Florence for sharing her tale with us. My advice to all Lions out there is that Dutch Antelope can smell your fear, being nervous around them is not advisable. If the sight of a stunning Antelope makes you weak at the knees, the Shallow Man suggests taking a deep breath, count to ten and then calmly make polite conversation with the Antelope in question. The hardest part, which was the eye contact, was already made, Gregg was invited over for a conversation, so shouldn’t have fallen apart like a badly made sausage broodje.
No cowardly Lions were hurt during the writing of this post.
Hah! I love how all the guys are so butt hurt over these articles, but when Simon writes about women they don’t make a peep. Keep ’em coming Florence, these are hillarious!
I was seriously amused. Florence and her antics are hillarious. I was just making an observation about Florence and I wasn’t generalizing in any sense.
I am deeply honoured. No white knighting…
If you say so 😉
No lions may have been hurt whilst writing this post but I’m sure one needed to get hurt for this story to happen, and many might still follow in the hands of this lion hunting antelope…
By post I meant comment. Sorry, couldn’t see a way to edit my comment.
The above post defies all logic.
Be nice, Léon. Crazzo is my favorite reader. Florence is gonna Florence. Lol! I might start using that
Lolz. Florence is gonna Florence. But maybe deep down you are attracted to wimps 😛