Mr China was in London for business, he was a Consultant. He was confident and was quite funny. I accepted his company on the grounds that it may be fun for a filler in the space while I was waiting for my train.
He invited me to a Mayfair art gallery. As I walked in I saw a round middle aged security guard. I texted him straight away: ‘you better not be the plump Chinese chap at the door’. I could hear someone laugh and headed towards it. It turns out that the security guard was in fact Vietnamese (according to Mr China).
I ascended down the stairs of the art gallery and met him mid-transaction. He had just purchased a 50K Bob Dylan painting. He looked at me and gave me a carefully constructed paragraph about the painting. What an utter twit I thought. I didn’t care much for paintings, but I can imagine others may be phased by that kind of thing. He didn’t know me well enough to make that decision and that’s what made it a tasteless move.
I had to reassess the reason I was meeting him: a filler was no longer enough as I could tell it was going to take a lot of effort on my part to pretend as if I was enjoy his company. New objective: instil some good manners into this barbarian that purchases ghastly paintings. Challenge accepted. We left the gallery and I realised he had not offered to carry my bags for me. Without any prompts, I threw my bags at him and hoped the energy required to carry my bags would mean he had less energy to put towards being such a nincompoop.
We went ahead and grabbed some drinks at Sketch. Without looking at the menu, I requested a bottle of Krug 1996 for both us. He looked at me and I could tell he had no idea what I had ordered but he was embarrassed to admit it, so he went along with it. This is exactly what the average girl would have felt like at his pompous painting purchase. We drank champagne that he didn’t appreciate and then he went on to tell me how he had an online personal shopper that dressed him. He could tell by the look of disgust on my face that I clearly did not agree with getting dressed by someone else; having an opinion on something you put on should really not be that hard. I complemented his Tom Browne shoes, despite it looking mismatched (at best, below average) in whatever designer trousers he was wearing. The irony was that he had no idea what he was wearing, he was just a product of someone who builds generic units to fit into society. He was an empty vessel, with limited opinions, which baffled me. He was exactly the polar opposite of me; I have so many opinions, thoughts and views.
Pretending to like boring people is awfully draining, so I ordered some food. I don’t know how people do this in a daily basis without becoming obese. Maybe this is the real cause of obesity in America. Mr China could tell I was drifting away so he started telling me how he left his ex girlfriend in London for his job in NY. I do like a good controversial topic, but I really don’t know what it is about me that makes guys want to communicate their previous sins (MR SWEDEN date 1). He confessed about how awfully he treated her, how she chased him for months and how he was sorry for it all. I think he expected me to think of him as a bad boy, but instead I said ‘she sounds desperate and that’s really not attractive’.
I moved off the girlfriend topic, but not before he attempted to ask about my skeletons. I kept brief: ‘people change’. We started talking about work and he told me he thought I would make a great sales person. He even suggested equity sales to me, which really didn’t appeal to me. The sales part, which involved networking with people really did though. He wrote down some contacts he had for me in HSBC, NatWest and JP Morgan. He told me to tell them he had sent me. This was turning a bit strange now. He told me how great he thought I was and I agreed with him.
My train was going to leave soon and I really don’t like Claustrophobic train toilets, so I thought it may be best to make use of the facilities. To my devastation, I could not pee in peace (see picture below). The toilets were a mutated cross breed between a festival portable toilets and a train toilet, but I guess this is the trouble with going to some of these ‘breaking the mould’ type of places. The bill was taken care of by the time I had arrived. He commented ‘great champagne’. I had no words. I bet he was one those people who ‘loved’ the flavour of shark’s fin soup too! (For those who are not aware, sharks fin is pricey but presents little flavour.)
Overall, Mr China had everything on paper: he looked good, had a great job and lifestyle. Despite not being as fortunate as he was, I just couldn’t help but to see him as completely inferior. He didn’t carry all he had very well. He just lacked that je ne sais quoi!
|Offered to pay the bill||Yes|
|Insisted on paying the bill||Yes|