Wrong Number

2011

The words of the Israeli man still lingers, and having sent that message to Darrell via Viber made me feel like a free bird!

I messaged him, and things got platonic. He is looking for another Jewish woman, and I fully respect that. It didn't stop us to complain about politics, things and trivialities.

Recalling with how we met, leaving a very strong impression. It led me back to 2011, when I was active in Match.com.

2011

The very first person who messaged me was a bald man, and not much to look at and old for my taste - thirty eight, and I was twenty two, and he is a consultant.

Aside from him, the other men who messaged me where boring bald old doctors. He's the best looking of such kind.

I gave him my number which was then +44, and he asked me for a cup of coffee... I declined, as I was searching for better looking men. And asked again, in which he was willing to drive by Camden. I declined. Until I just finally accepted the third time.

It was that summer that broke me out of my shell, I met Chris, a writer whom I find handsome. Same age as Daniel, the only difference is Chris has hair that made himself look younger and better looking.

We like each other, Christian and Christine but Atheist together - a writer and an aspiring writer, half-Fench and half-English and British bred mixed European and Chinese. How better can it be?

The chemistry was just there. We both were struggling financially. A deputy editor of peanuts salary, a law student who's father business career was hit by the recession. We didn't mind being un-rich but not in poverty or not on benefits also.

It was like having a best friend - a human diary.

I opened up to him how I was once used for sex by an Irish-Scottish from Northamptonshire, before relocating to Australia. Until my assumptions were proven wrong, as he never had forgotten me all those years. He wanted  to meet me again, as he cannot stand the life in Australia. I have, however moved on.

Christian didn't to do that to me, so we remained friends. Until a week before he left, we met... which was the day after I will be meeting Daniel from Match. We spent the night drinking, and later to his flat and where we spent the night. The nakedness was tempting and we gave in.

I was feeling the hang up, but he told me not to. At 8.30 AM, I went about my day returning to my flat in Camden for shower and change. I headed to a quick breakfast at a nearby Caffe Nero.

Feeling the loss, the overwhelming feel of Christian's relocating to Korea to teach English and pay off his debts. I sent a message to Daniel, telling him that I cannot see him on that Friday afternoon for a cup of coffee.

He insisted we meet, complete with assuredness.

Half-heartedly, I came to Kilburn where we were to meet. There I saw, the tall bald man, in his pair of jeans and dark grey t-shirt standing with such stoicism across the tube station.

He led me to the cafe nearby, and ordered his hot chocolate and I ordered my latte. It was rather an awkward moment, he sat quietly with his arms crossed. I bet he can sense that I was feeling tensed. At that age of twenty two, I had different priorities... it was looks then personality, rather than the other way around.

'I hate lawyers.' Blunt. Sharp. No compromise.

I felt a lump on my throat.

It's only one year to go until I get to be in legal practice course stage.

Confused. Attacked. I did not know how to react.

'Why?' The only worked that came out from my drying mouth.

'They lie, and they are entitled. They over charge. They deceive just to justify their overrated fees. And they are boring.'

I tried my best not to react. 'There's more to that, many lawyers also reject cases and accept the ones that has probability of winning. It's also numbers.'

It felt like a dreaded job interview. Matter of factly, I had better time at some job interviews over this. Once for my volunteer work at witness protection, the social worker was very lovely and even came in to the house.

There was more silence, and I had to discreetly check the time on his watch because if it was my watch my wrist will move and therefore my boredom would be obvious.

I ended up uttering about my dreaded body, that I can do with weight loss.

Half an hour after, 'I better go. I have to eat dinner with my mum and my aunt.' He stood up and picked up the tab.

'You should do weight training, that's what we do in water polo whenever we need to lose weight.'

He went about his night.

I walked in the opposite direction towards the tube station, I had the sudden urge to look back and see him off but I didn't. Embracing my ego over the temptation.

He left me with a smile, I really wanted to see him again. Despite the awkwardness.

My mind told me to move on, I gave him a rubbish time. He finds me boring, perhaps.

I have, after all, another date next week.