Montreal: LR: Flipping the Sexual Script (Part 1)
This is the story of HBfashiondesign. It’s an interesting tale that involves a foolish misinterpretation, dramatic let’s-just-befriending, and larger-than-life frame control. And in the end, I get the girl…wrapped around my finger. Overall, the dominant theme and key to this lay is reframing….
Note: This LR is dense with actual email correspondence from HBfashiondesign.
I met her on July 19th at Club Loft. For some reason this club has a huge draw on Tuesdays. Mostly what I remember about the place is that it was the hottest club I had ever been to (temperature-wise) with no AC and I was absolutely drenched with sweat. Like everyone else in the place. There was a rooftop terrace and a huge line of people waiting to get to the top. The other thing that I remember is that my game was going nowhere in the lower level. Loud, bad music, way too hot. Very francophone crowd that would sooner walk away than even attempt to speak English with me. So I get in line to go to the terrace where it will be cooler and quieter and hopefully communication will go further.
She was in a group consisting of three other women. All were remarkably attractive. They had their own table and a pitcher of beer. They looked like a group of close friends happily making their own fun. I pull up a chair and join them at their table. They’re shocked. I immediately start talking about my impression of the club and of Montreal.
I get the ‘where are you from’ stuff out of the way and I tell them that I’ve been given my own Canadian province to populate. Then I start a future-projection role-playing scenario in which I tell them the positions that I need filled and we help each other determine who’s right for each. So the girl who knows the most about the city is my tour guide. The girl who responds the most when I ask what words are in French becomes my French teacher. The third girl is my cook. I tell her that I expect more than maple syrup,
Canadian bacon, and putine and I tell her all the cuisines she must master.
I’ve saved my target for last. She’s not only the most beautiful, but she also has the most dominant energy of the group. We could match wits all night, for real. But largely, until now, I have been ignoring her and not acknowledging her questions and interjections while I talked with the other girls. I wanted to make them laugh and get them to be comfortable and accepting of my presence. Done.
So now I have the attention of primarily my girl and the second-hottest girl. The second girl is quite flirty. My girl tells me that this one is drunk. And to not mess with her. I shake my head in agreement. I compliment my girl’s leadership and protective qualities. I then assign her as my ‘spiritual advisor’ and I describe how she is going to read my horoscope daily, be my motivation coach, and overwhelm me with positivism and optimism. I tell her that I need her to be open, adventurous, intelligent, and trustworthy. I quickly give her a version of the trust test, framed as screening her for trustworthiness.
By now, the friends want to go dance. She wants to go with the friends. We’re all standing and we’re directly in front of each other now. I say, “It was fun messing around with your friends and sharing laughs with them, but to get to know you was the reason I came and sat down. I found you attractive, and now I see that you are more than just a pretty face. I have a feeling that if we spent time together one-on-one we would totally ‘click’ and who knows how we might enhance each other’s lives.”
And I go into my ‘cell-phone doesn’t work here’ close. Neither of us has a pen for her to take my email. The friends claim not to have pens and they are nagging her to dance. She says, “Just remember my phone number.” Skeptically, I tell her that there is no way I’m going to remember it, but I will try because I know that she will benefit so much by hanging out with me again. They head off downstairs. I find someone with a pen and write down the number I’ve been repeating. Funny thing, I did actually memorize the number. Of all the girls I dealt with in Montreal, this is the only number I had memorized, and it’s still stuck in my head. Sneaky girl.
So the next day, I call her from the Marriott and leave a message telling her that I’m easier to keep in touch with by email and I leave my email address. I wait two days before I call again, as she has not written. I return to the Marriott (found a phone I use to make free local calls) and I call the number and my girl’s not there, but I get her roommate on the phone….
This is intense. The roommate sounds hella cute. And she’s working as an intern designing underwear! How fun. I kept talking to the roommate and I was playing heavy on themes of once in a lifetime opportunities and seizing the moment, etc, etc. I’m trying to get this girl to come out and meet me that night, blind-date style. I tell a story of perfect lovers who leave things up to ‘fate’ to meet again and when they finally do, they don’t recognize each other. We’re given one chance and that we have to take advantage, NOW. Isn’t it exciting…come meet me. Anyway, she lives so far away, etc etc. I get her to agree to meet me the next day after work.
Man, this girl sounded so sweet. Two nineteen year old roommates. What am I to do? I’m thinking that, if nothing else, I have introduced a little competition. And what do you know, that night the initial girl sends me an email. So, it looks like she did get the earlier message after all when I left my email address. Here it is:
“I heard you met [my roommate] tonight. It's really strange that you connected with her as well. I can understand though because she's pretty much at the same level as I am. I must warn you though….I'm not afraid of people, not even of you. I must admit that we don't meet a lot of people of your kind. So, like I said the night we met, I trust people, I trust you, but if you mess with me or [my roommate], I will be so mad you can't imagine. Take care of her, don't mess with her.....I love her. I'm sorry to tell you that so early, but I want to be clear. My friends didn't see right through you that night and they told me to be careful…so as I like my friends and myself, I will be on my guard just a little bit. I have no problem meeting you...as long as you’re polite, friendly and deep. I'm not in a really good place right now, so maybe that's why we connected. You see, I felt what you had to give me, and if you can help me just to let go....that would be great. I won’t tell you more because I'm tired, like always, and I need to get some rest. I work tomorrow till 10 pm, and then, as soon as I’m finished, I will be getting home where you can call me. I will probably be there around 11 pm or 11.30 pm. So call me if you're interested. By the way, I'm pretty impressed that you remembered my phone number…really impressed!”
So…they were talking about me. Interest now seems high with both. The email is pretty revealing. The next day, Friday, was my triple-lay day (LRx3: Trois beautées en une seule journée), which took some careful orchestrating, so I flaked on meeting the roommate. That night I call and I get the original girl on the phone. Check this out…it turns out that they were BOTH at the meeting spot, set to see me. Hmmm…. Well, I keep chatting with this girl and we set up a time to meet the next night. But again, we set up a time and place that I would be meeting them BOTH. Interesting.
Well, I’m an asshole. I flake AGAIN. I actually tried to make it, but I was driving downtown on a Saturday night and I never anticipated so much traffic. I did show up, but I was like forty minutes late. Didn’t see them, although there is some confusion as to whether we even came to the same spot. Oh well. I go off and do my thing-thing, and when I check my email in the morning, I read this:
“You poor guy, you missed us twice in two days...fate is against you. Ok, its 2:06 in the morning...we are at the Marriot hotel, we are waiting down stairs. I hope you get the message tonight. We need your last name to get to your room. Leave us your room number so we can get in touch.”
Are you thinking what I’m thinking? What might have happened if I had gotten this email? Why are they BOTH so determined to meet? (It’s funny that they assume I stay at the Marriott because I call from there.) How were they able to send an email from the hotel? What did they do between the time we were set to meet and 2am? How long did they wait in the hotel lobby for me? How can I turn this around after flaking TWICE? What’s next?
Bon moment. Aime la vie. GoneSavage