Cyber date was nothing like my computer mate

CALL ME LOVER\nDID YOU GET MY PHOTO. Pic. Yalo. 30/06/08. © Sowetan.
CALL ME LOVER\nDID YOU GET MY PHOTO. Pic. Yalo. 30/06/08. © Sowetan.

He rocked up in town unannounced and called to ask me out on a date one Friday evening. My cyber man. I was delirious.

I was so nervous that I had to have a drink, but even a double gin and tonic did nothing for me that night. He was waiting for me at Nikki's. I believed ours had prevailed over the fallacies of the dating world.

For 15 minutes my car seemed to stand in one place even though I was virtually sitting on the accelerator. As if I wasn't already testing fate with speed, he still threatened to leave the venue if I wasn't there in 10 minutes. How I parked my car and found my way to Nikki's in one piece is a mystery.

I walked in and I started wondering if everything was in place.

Things went into slow motion as I waited for my movie magic to unfold. I felt a bit dizzy and started doubting my sight as everything almost blurred before me. The lighting was not so good either and the joint definitely needs to get rid of the ancient indoor plants because people can easily hide behind them.

From the buzzing crowd, someone waved at me and I hoped to God it was not him. That it was his brother or his driver. But why would he have brought a friend?

I hoped that my mind was playing tricks on me.

You could have guessed it; the man waving turned out to be none other than the object of my desire. What the.? He looked nothing like the man in my computer, and I still insist it wasn't him. He was small and short. I don't do short guys who want to shag people under false pretences.

With my hopes dashed so quickly, I slowly made my way to his cheap table and was soon introduced to the real thing. Following our brief greetings, I proceeded: "So when did you get here?"

His "Only a few minutes ago" was followed by a silence of inferiority complex. The music sucked and it was a bit loud or maybe he spoilt things for the venue. On his right side stood a travel bag that had seen better days and I wondered which motel was going to host this jerk?

He wore a red golf shirt and faded black jeans. Did I dress like Beyonce for Dexter?

I realised his dental arrangement had been messed with, but I didn't care how or when. I was actually glad, and hoped the teeth got dealt a fist punch from someone who saw right through him. What a long night it turned out to be.

I went to the bathroom at the slightest chance, to think, pinch and laugh at myself. It would have been funny if it wasn't so sad.

"The intoxicated friend had his eyes on me like Neo was not even there," I later narrated to my gaping mother and sister who were both in stitches.

"The brown-toothed friend concluded: to hell with Neo, he was going for gold. Browny tried relentlessly to hit on me. And silence befell the table every time I brushed him off."

So what the hell was I still doing there when it was obvious things would never improve? I thought of asking Browny and his friend Neo, just what arrangement they had because clearly comradeship was Greek to them. But I was too uninterested so I just sort of stayed on.

If I wasn't too busy thinking of the time wasted, I would have delved into his sleeping arrangements for the night, which I'm sure were just as laughable. Instead, I drank and drank, trying to figure out how I came to be fooled by such a joke of a man.

In the end, after getting tipsy and bored, I let my invisible rude evil twin take over. I abruptly bid everyone goodbye as I reached for my handbag and tried to settle the bill for my drinks. Browny insisted on footing the bill. It suited me just fine. I had to get my fabulous self out of that dump.

Neo followed me. Rha! He looked like my son, walking next to me like that. He was wearing a belt that was on the fashion police's most-wanted list too.

I wanted to laugh. He was so short, he had to almost run to catch up with me. To get my own back, I walked faster, just to humiliate him. His feet followed furiously behind me. We got into my car and he started salivating.

I smelt his breath. It was the only thing beautiful about him. I French-kissed him and he lost his breath and his fast eyes started dancing like they were searching for a corner where we could steal a shag. What a loser. I ignited my engine and I asked him to call me later.

In retrospect, I should have jilted him at the altar. I should have led him on, pretended that I wanted a future with a small man and struck a deal with my uncles to fleece him naked in ilobolo. I should have made him pay for the ring, the band, the venue, the catering and the whole shebang, then just gone AWOL on the big day before trading the ring for something of value.