Classical Music Lubricates The Date

Canada's flag
North America » Canada » Quebec » Montréal
May 16th 2008
Published: May 16th 2008
Edit Blog Post

Math ClassMath ClassMath Class

Trini-Boy and Yours Truly in class
We set a time and place over the next few emails: Milton Gates, 1:30pm, right after my class.

Because I was all nervous and jittery, I shot out of bed as soon as my alarm beeped at 10am, instead of hitting snooze ten times and racing off to math class at 11:00.

Faced with so much time, I took a shower, ate breakfast and spent two minutes choosing my clothes, instead of the usual 2 seconds.

I glanced at the clock.


40 minutes until class.

D-German had left for work at 8am, so I had nothing to do. I went on my computer and reread all of our emails to assess her throwing motion. Her delivery looked pretty flawless as I couldn’t tell how the fuck I was going to get a hit off of someone of her mentality.

After amusing myself on the world wide web a bit more, I took the long route to class in order to shave off some more time. Arrived 10 minutes early, twiddled my thumbs and when the prof walked in, I figured I would have something to amuse me until gametime.

Math ClassMath ClassMath Class

both of us waiting for the white people to stop asking questions
this is math.

I quickly figured out the technique we were learning in the first five minutes and the prof spent the rest of the 2 hours and 25 minutes doing repetitive examples for the white kids in the class.

I twiddled my thumbs, doodled three pages worth of pictures, beat my cellphone pinball game twice, took random (stealthy) pictures and then went back to twiddling my thumbs.

After the prof finally answered the last stupid question from the dumb Toronto bitch sitting in the first row (“What’s a derivative, eh?”), and I had finished repeatedly smacking my head on my desk, I raced out the class and sprinted to Milton Gates.


10 minutes early.

I made sure shorty hadn’t arrived yet, then looked for a place to wait that would accentuate my amazingly cool, calm and collected self.

I decided on a bench right next to the gates and lounged back, the seconds ticking down. Milton Gates was a bad location (this is what happens when you don’t scout the field before the game)—she could come from one of two directions so I had to keep swiveling my eyes in two
Me, smirking...Me, smirking...Me, smirking...

...cuz I'm on a date with J-ZN
opposite directions, hoping to catch a glance of small yellow skinned girl amongst the crowd of pink polo shirts, short shorts and wraparound sunglasses that flow into and out of Milton Gates.

I waited.

And waited.

I resisted the urge to glance at my cellphone for the time (what if she came just as I was checking it…that would mean I’m desperate!) but I knew if she didn’t come in the next minute or two, she was going to be late.

A minute ticked by.


And another.

And another.

No trace of her…

Maybe she didn’t know where Milton Gates was and thought it was somewhere else? Maybe she sent me an email canceling? Did I mistake the time? Did I mistake the place?

Just as I was about to race over to the nearest computer lab to re-check my emails, I caught a glimpse of her flouncing towards the gate from the west.

I relaxed, lounged back, titled my cap back and pointed my head east to look nonchalant.

I sensed her approaching, but resisted the urge to turn my head. I wanted to gauge her.
Me, happy...Me, happy...Me, happy...

...guess why.

I continued to pretend to scan the crowd to the east.

I felt her hesitating next to me.

She placed her hand on my shoulder…

...and timidly, “Gen?”

I turned, looked straight up into her eyes and grinned:

“I missed you.”

After she apologized profusely for being two minutes late (I pretended it wasn’t a big deal even though I almost had a cardiac arrest), we started idly walking around in the beautiful weather.

She was wearing a flowery blouse and really cute plaid shorts which would’ve prompted me to dish out a ton of ridicule had any of my female friends had been wearing it. But on her, it looked amazing as it accentuated her general innocence and cute character.

Since it was such a beautiful day, we decided to get some sandwiches and loll around the grass on campus. In actuality, Shortstop had coached me the night before to push the date into this direction.

I tried paying for her sandwich—small market teams need to spend like big market teams in order to contend—but she would have none of that (strike one?).

We settled on

For once, come up with your own witty caption: there's a small Asian girl and a big, thick, sandwich near her mouth.
the hill on campus and we quickly caught up after our two week hiatus and then moved on to nonsensical things that guys and girls talk about during awkward lunch dates. Along the way, I used one of my bulletproof tactics, “The Running Score”.

The Running Score is something I started naturally with a few of my friends, and then realized it’s an amazing strategy with girls. It’s an easy way to establish a good bond between the target and yourself if she happens to be a bit flirty.

It’s simple: whenever you do something nice/cool/smart, add one to your current score, whenever she does something stupid/bad/funny negate one from your score and then announce it…say “Gen 10, Allisa 0”, for example. This might sound exceedingly dumb, but by only announcing the score only during the times that it benefits you, she will try hard to one up you in order to catch up.

In this sense, 1) she (without realizing it) is having a lot of fun on the date by playing a game with you, 2) you have a nice inside joke to start off your relationship and 3) it might plant an idea in her head that you’re amazing (since you only announce scores when you’re up).

It’s an especially good strategy for someone like me as I have tons of funny and extremely stupid stories (see Streaking, Tokyo) to make the girl laugh and to quickly let her catch up to me.

It adds a lot of fun and is good in a pinch if the dreaded awkward silence creeps into the date. You can just say, “Hey, I can’t believe you’re losing to someone as stupid as me…this one time…” and not only have you shared a great story, she’s back in the game and you’ve both had a good laugh (of course, at your expense).

I first tried it with Alisa 1.0, then on Shortstop. Both are really close friends with me and that alone is a testament to its strength.

It didn’t fail with J-ZN. She quickly tried to catch up by asking me some stories, then I made her tell some stories, and when we realized it, it was already 4pm.

I asked her what her plans for the night were.

“Well, I’m going to a concert…”

“Oh. With who?”

“Only myself. It’s a little lonely…”


There was no need to prepare for this game. Fastball straight down the pipe, this girl doesn’t mess around.

I crushed it.


“How about I come along with you?“

To while away the time until the 8pm concert, we went to the mall for a bit. Neither of us shop so it was mainly spent raising our eyebrows at the ridiculous prices.

A few hours flew by quickly as we had more fun ridiculing each other (in order to take the lead in the Running Score) in the mall and then we visited my apartment for a bit. She met D-German for the second time (they met at the Post J-Dinner Party at Teddy’s apartment) and he played the role of the “Cool Roommate” wingman. He didn’t flirt at all but threw hilarious jokes into the conversation to keep it going and made sure to stress a few (and only) good qualities that I have.

After a quick and dirty dinner, we rolled down to the church for the concert. Apparently some baller Russian musicians were playing as the crowd outside was easily a hundred deep and CTV had cameras rolling. We quickly bought two balcony seats (I offered again to buy her tickets…she refused: strike two?) and joined the massive queue.

Got in, sat down (4 rows back from the edge) and the lights quickly dimmed and the music started.

I’ll confess. I like G-Rap. I hate classical music. I was going to try some moves on J-ZN in the darkness with the classical music as a romantic backdrop.

But I guess Russians perfected classical music sometime between inventing vodka and taking over all of Eastern Europe because it was amazing.

I forgot I was in Montreal. I forgot I was on a date. I actually forgot about J-ZN sitting right next to me. It was easily the best concert I had been to—yes, even better than Up N Smoke.


The 2 hours in that stuffy church blazed by and the lights turned on and people started filing out.

I finally leaned back.


I just gained a fucking appreciation to classical music?

Thank god none of my friends from the hood can read this blog.

We walked to the point where we would have to split and I offered to walk her home. She refused (strike three?) but thanked me for the fun day. Like I said in a previous entry, she’s an amazing closer.

And now, what do I do?

Should I try for first base?

But I had already struck out, so I settled on a hug…which she accepted in the most awkward way possible, by rapidly patting me on the back twice and then quickly releasing.

God, if I didn’t like this girl soooooo much, I wouldn’t even be trying…

The drought continues.

Summer stats:

2 AB
2 SO
0 Hits
0 HR
.000 Avg

Sorry my posts have been breezy, but when you're having as much fun as I've been having...its hard to force myself to write. Wait until a depressive/emo spell comes, then I'll be parked in front of my computer banging entries out and using my tears as lube for my masturbation.


Tot: 0.117s; Tpl: 0.048s; cc: 7; qc: 24; dbt: 0.0149s; 1; m:saturn w:www (; sld: 3; ; mem: 1.2mb