Note to self: do not go on "lunch" dates. EVER!

Ugh. I have a headache. Worst day ever.


I finally agreed to go on a fucking lunch date (yes, date as in a real date date date) with someone who’s been pestering me for the past few days. I think it’s about time for me to go to one of those cheesy tacky dates where two people sit on the opposite sides of the table and concoct stories about themselves, polyester tie optional. Hello… I’m not getting any younger and my biological clock is ticking. If I don’t go on a date now, I’m gonna end up like Leona Helmsley with no one beside her deathbed other than her dog.

Click click click!

It was all fine and dandy. I heard what he had to say about himself (interesting job) and got a free meal in the process. One of the best things about dating someone a little older than you (he’s 28… don’t push it) is the fact that they always pay for things whereas try to date someone younger and you become a sugar azucarera de mama by default.

Everything went perfect as planned. He wasn’t as bad as what I thought and I think he liked me. By perfect, meaning we’re gonna see each other again soon, this time, at night, we’ll have booze and then my ass is gonna be the sacrificial lamb afterwards. Skiing, bb, raw power bottom here I come! Eeeew. Just kidding.

After lunch, we strolled around the area to burn off calories and tried to look for a place to have coffee and this small group of girls came up to us and sorta ruined the moment. You see, I didn’t tell the guy about my site. He knows absolutely nothing about it. I also didn’t tell him about this "bryanboy" character. It’s a decision that I made beforehand. I don’t want to overwhelm him too much. I mean, most of you
already know that I separate my personal life with everything else.

Girl #2: OH MY GOD CAN I TAKE A PICTURE? (runs beside me and thrusts a cellphone in front of us)
Girl #3: Is that your boyfriend? WAIT ME TOO! (takes a photo of me)

Me: Uh — yeah — um — yeah, sure you can take a — *click*
– uhhhh — yeah — hi — *click* um NO he’s not my *click* thanks

Once they got their pictures, they said thanks and left. It all
happened too fast it was insane. I just stood there, lit a cigarette
and tried to compose myself.

Guy: What was that about? Why are they calling you Bryanboy?

Oh that’s nothing. I think they thought I was somebody else so I went to play along with it.

Bollocks. Tell me what’s that about, Bryan. (He wasn’t pissed, more like shocked — and amused — at the same time.)

Ok fine. When I was six years old, there used to be a popular children’s tv show in this country called Batibot and I was in it for
like two years. It’s like Sesame Street. I don’t know why people take pictures of me now that I’m well, older and I don’t do TV. I hate the TV. TV is for nasty people.

Oh right. (I think he got a hint that I didn’t want to talk about it.) Coffee?

You know what, I think I’m gonna head off now. That was like so awkward. *dials for driver* But we’ll see each other again soon, yeah?

Don’t be spoilsport, come on, one coffee. One drink, Bryanboy.

You did NOT call me that!!! No, I really have to go. I’m late for errands. It’s almost 4PM.

(more begging/pleading blah blah no I can’t blah blah)

Guy: Ok then. Call me yeah?

Yeah. I will. Nice to see you.


Guy: See you BryanBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOYYYYY! (He said that really loud and with his accent, it was funny and embarassing at the same time.)


My driver: Sir ano yun? Bakit sumisigaw yun?  (translation: Sir, what’s that? Why is he screaming?)

I died.

Batibot eh? Where the hell did that fucking came from?