Ooops!

There were two less-than-perfect moments in my recent (not-quite) love affair with a visiting businesswoman (well, apart from her not falling in love with me, and leaving after 6 days, that is...). The rest of the time we spent together was unbelievably harmonious and blissful; yes, yes, probably too-good-to-be-true. But our first and last meetings were tainted by moments of acute, though rather amusing embarrassment for me. And I can't help but wonder now if there was some kind of omen in this.

I met her in a favourite little bar down on Nanluoguxiang. She'd been poring over a map in the corner, so I had been politely ignoring her. Then she came over and asked me and the boss for some restaurant recommendations. I didn't want to seem too pushy (and I had, alas, already eaten that evening), so didn't suggest accompanying her to a restaurant. However, having ascertained that she was a visitor and unaccompanied (and drop-dead gorgeous), I did mention that there was a nice gig in the neighbourhood later in the evening (my jazzy friends, the No Name Trio, playing at Ginkgo) and that I would be delighted if she could join me there after her meal if she had time. She agreed that that sounded a very attractive suggestion, and asked me for details.

Now, Gingko was not so very distant from where we were, and not too difficult to find, but since she was a stranger, in Beijing for the first time, I thought it would be helpful if I could give her a card with the address and telephone number on it. I was pretty sure I had one of Gingko's cards somewhere in my wallet (I have dozens of cards for bars and restaurants in my wallet!). Yes, sure enough - here's one. Only as I was handing it over to her did I notice that there was a name and phone number scribbled on it. A girl's name! I honestly have no idea who that girl was, or how I came to have her number written on a restaurant's business card. (I suspect that the card had been given to me by someone else, Nico the manager, maybe; and that I'd never even noticed there was a personal phone number added to it.) No, this did not tend to show me in a good light, I fear; it suggested that I was some sort of inveterate lounge lizard who chats girls up in bars every night.... and subsequently doesn't even remember who they are. However, I managed to apologise, and make a joke of it; and I think my embarrassment and bewilderment were so obviously authentic that she was inclined to be amused by it too (although she did tease me about it later, rather charmingly, when she wrote her own contact details on the same card for me, and then added, "Don't give this away this time!").

Anyway, all smooth sailing from there on. Until her last night. She had decided she would like to see part of a festival of films on modern dance that was screening at the Ullens Centre in Dashanzi that week. I had to work in the CBD until early evening, and so was faced with a bit of a mad scramble to get out there in time for the start. I therefore told her I'd meet her inside the auditorium. Once I finally found a taxi, and got clear of the rush-hour logjam on the 2nd Ringroad, I made improbably good time and managed to arrive with 5 or 10 minutes in hand.

Ah, but then.... at the box office, I happened to run into a lady journalist friend - outrageously sexy, something of an old flame. We hadn't seen each other in ages, so she was being very chatty, very friendly.... insisting we walk into the show together. Oh dear. I'm going to look like a lounge lizard again, aren't I? I couldn't find a way of explaining to my lovely friend that I didn't want to sit with her, or even really to be seen with her, because I was kind of on a date with someone else.... but I did manage to detach myself from her almost as soon as we were through the door. And I don't think my New Romantic Interest noticed this fleeting 'infidelity', or thought anything untoward of it, if she did. Phew!

And so, the rest of our last evening passed as wonderfully as the previous five had done. But I really, really, really do not want that to be our last evening.

Anyway, those two slight misadventures turned out to be more amusing than disastrous, thank heavens. But I still feel these anecdotes would make a suitable first post for my long threatened series on Great Dating Disasters.