• So we put up a profile regarding the OKCupid (while you do) and arranged a romantic date with a female whom seemed a beneficial match:
All traits that landed her squarely within my highly selective wheelhouse around my age, occupied with intellectual concerns, pursuing a humanities PhD at a nearby university. We made plans to satisfy at a stuffy cambridge watering gap. We arrived very very early (which will be to state five full minutes later than we’d prepared) and discovered myself waiting another fifteen or more on her to reach. This worked down in my benefit, fundamentally, as it purchased me personally sufficient time to down a fast vodka & soft drink and loosen a bit up before she arrived. I already had a fresh drink (now my second, which looked like my first, because I’m full of tricks) and I was seated at a chaise lounge within sight of the stairs that led to the second story bar when she did finally come.
Whenever she came within the stairs we knew instantly it absolutely was her (from her photos, clearly), and she knew instantly that I happened to be me personally,
Either due to my pictures or since it could have been mentioned that there might are a remote chance that I’d function as the man reading an accumulation prose because of the late-18th century French symbolist poet Stephane Mallarme (sorry, globe) or maybe due to the means she recoiled once we first made attention contact, twisting her face right into a pained appearance suggesting disgust combined with frustration, just as if to see me personally in person was in fact to appreciate she’d been offered a false bill of products.