My friends from Mars

I've had a surprisingly productive week. As if last week, and the tumultuous weekend, somehow had a cleansing effect on me. With renewed energy, I managed to slog though 5 client interviews, over a dozen brand new powerpoint slides, one intense pilates session, a run in Hyde Park and many, many kilometers of walking. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.

I have also been quite busy preparing for a date. And what began as a rather anodyne attempt to get myself out of the house has now turned into a full-blown comedy routine, with friends and co-workers getting actively involved.

On the girl side, it's been mostly about using the event as an excuse to go shopping (as if I ever need an excuse to go shopping). I suspect, however, that the girls' participation will increase threefold as soon as the date is over, through the lengthy and intricate debriefing process.

It's the boys that have provided the most entertainment.

First, there was the venue advice. One by one, they came to me to disclose, in hushed tones, the name of their "favourite date place". With a wink and a smile they deposited address after address as if bestowing upon me the Crown jewels themselves.

Then came the big-brotherly concern. The enquiries into the young man's background, professional qualifications, references and intentions. The stern requests to review any available photographs, no no, not out of girly curiosity, but to check that he had the "right kind of look about him". Right.

And finally, today, an entire oenology course conducted via messenger with my lovely OBT "El Culinary Genius" Buddy in Madrid.

Buddy: So, have fun tonight.
Res: I will.
Buddy: What kind of wine will you have?
Res: Ummm, I don't know... why?
Buddy: You should have a wine you really enjoy.
Res: Uh, ok, how about... white?
Buddy: Which one?
Res: Ummm... a nice one? The Boy liked Sancerre. Maybe that one?
Buddy: Sancerre sucks. I thought you were French. What's the matter with you? Are you some kind of retard?
Res: Well...
Buddy: What do you like? Dry? Fruity? Tall? Short? Kick-ass? With a bitchin' sense of humour? [or something to that effect]
Res: Huh?
Buddy: Here. Read this. Memorize it. Get back to me.
[Sends over large amounts of info, that reads like an instruction manual for the Hubble telescope]

[Long pause, as Res' eyes pour over the screen frantically]

Res: Ah. Graves. I've heard of that. That's quite nice, eh?
Buddy: Yes. You can have that.
Res: Ok. I always thought it was called "Graves" because it was a serious wine.
Buddy: [groan...]
Res: But it says here it's because it's gravelly.
Buddy: Yes.
Res: Not the wine, though, I hope? Because I wouldn't want any crunchy wine, would I?
Buddy: [pat pat]