Mr 8 Percent : Second Date
16th May 2017
It all happened in a flash. No, I’m not making you out to be some superhero that saved me like Flash Gordon, Master of the Ukraine (universe) but our meeting happened very instantaneously. Just as quick as my flick to the right, you were right there in front of me at Lviv’s most prestigious opera hall.
I told you to look out for the lady in yellow and there you were — saving me from the masses of tourists that littered the entrance.
Within the first five minutes I had you in character, acting out boyfriendly duties. I whisked you to a store for a ‘thriller’ jacket that I could not help but think about all day after seeing it in the shop front. It’s 2017 — its never a bad time to unleash the inner MJ and moon walk my way through the streets wearing the ultimate red leather jacket.
You were impressed with my haggling skills — I’m Italian after all and my mother taught me well. Trips to Asia also taught me well. I may be cheap but my passion for a bargain is rich.
After dropping off my newly purchased 80s attire, you took me to the theatre. A beer theatre. I won’t lie — either an arts theatre or one filled with alcohol is the way to the heart. You certainly weren’t behind the 8 ball on beer choices with selecting easy-sipping ale pints at 8%. Boy are you wanting me to get drunk?
So much for my ban on not drinking post Eurovision.
It was pleasant weather so we sat outside to simply watch life pass us by. The beer was not to blame for the strange people watching. The Ukrainian heavens had even sent us an angel in the form of a lady rollerblading her way through the cobblestone streets pushing a cart of henna whilst wearing a snow jacket with her cleavage on show. She may have stolen your glance but I had captivated your attention with covering topics of Chernobyl, travelling, England which were interesting I thought — but not for long.
Some beer later, I told you I wore my heart on my sleeve and I am too trusting of people — both that has its pros and cons. You kept suggesting I should eat something. I (out of character I know) refused. The 8% was certainly on 3 x 8% by now. I think that this is the time you decided to Beat It. You mentioned you would leave soon after your beer — you were tired. Uh oh — this doesn’t sound good. In my book, if you are having a good time, especially with rollerblading angel henna lady in front of you, forget the tired factor and roll on with the punches. Conversation and drinks were flowing — weren’t we both having a good time?
As you confidently decided to leave, that is when I confidently decided to ask.
‘I have never done this before but are you leaving because you find me boring, you don’t like me?’
This is when the wolves certainly came out to scare you.
Not thrilled with the question, more horrified than anything, you denied it, backed out and ran.
I was left to fend for myself. Literally.
I opted to go two doors down and requested my table for one at a Greek restaurant. What I saw on the menu was a perk me up gryos. I ate with my emotions and left.
Addicted I was, I came back for more at the same table. It’s pity you couldn’t be there Mr 8 Percent to enjoy it with me because sloppy seconds tasted better than the first time around.
#DateRegret: Possibly not eating a third gyros.
Image credit: Seinfield