Wednesday 23 June 2010

Prince Oh So Charming

I'm sitting on my bedroom floor surrounded by clothes thrown all over the place.  I'm wearing two dresses at once because I cannot decide which one I like best, and my hair is half up half down, golden brown tendrils of it occasionally clashing with my face, which only makes me angry. 
    "I have no clothes!" I confirm to my flatmate, Lisa, who has come into my room tip toeing around the clothes and places herself on the bed.  She rolls her eyes at me and looks around sarcastically.
    "Cup of tea?" she asks joyfully and I turn and glare at her.  "I'll take that as a no then" she whispers and tip toes her way back out. 
    A few seconds later she pokes her head around the door, "You know," she begins, "you shouldn't be this picky about what to wear.  He has seen you in your most casual clothes with vomit down your top," she grins childishly and runs away when I attempt to throw a boot at her.
    "Thanks, that really helps!" I yell after her, but all I hear are her muffled giggles coming from the kitchen. 
    Oh, I give up on clothes.  Lisa's right (as much as it pains me to admit it).  Derren has indeed seen me with puke all down my clothes.  It was actually on the night we met; I had been dragged out (and I actually mean, dragged) by Lisa and Josie who fancied a girls night out.  The only problem was that I was feeling a little bit ill and drinking masses of alcohol does not make tummy aches go away - no matter how much Josie insists on this - they are in fact a horrible combination.  So I found myself running desperately through the crowded room to make it to the toilets.
    But I didn't quite make it to the toilets.
    Instead my body thought it would be more appropriate to be sick right in the middle of a crowded club.
    But that's enough about my stomach contents. 
    Derren's the one who found me huddled in a corner whilst I was singing the alphabet song (although I don't believe him).  Since that day he's been popping up all over the place.
    He asked me out a week prior to the date whilst I was trying to swallow a gulp of water, which as you can imagine, led to most of the water being spewed out and a slight spell of choking.  Clearly, he's seen me at my worst - which dress I wear shouldn't really matter.
    But it does, and two hours later I'm exactly where I was.  The only difference is that my right foot now contains a pink shoe. 
    "Wear that white Topshop dress and those black shoes," Lisa comes in impatiently. 
    I look over at the two apparels she's pointed out and now it seems like the choice was simple all along.  I quietly rise from the floor and make my way to pick up the white dress.  Without saying a word I motion for her to leave.  She doesn't do it gracefully - she laughs the whole way out. 

Derren's already at the restaurant, sitting at a table waiting for me.  He waves me over and kisses my cheek when I reach him.
    "You look lovely," he states while scanning my outfit.
    "Yes, no puke this time," the words roll out before I get a chance to stop them.  He's chosen a very simple, French restaurant in West London.  The perfect wooing place. 
    A blonde waitress walks over to us, throwing her most dashing smile.  "Good evening," she managed to move her lips without altering her smile.  "May I get you some drinks?"
    I quickly scan the wine list.  Nodding casually at the foreign French names as if I know what they mean.  My knowledge of wine stretches as far as 'There is red wine, pink wine and white wine', and of course, the legendary motto 'Wine before beer makes you feel queer, but beer before wine makes you feel fine'.
I'm about to ask Derren to choose but as I look up I see him ogling the waitress.  He's not even being subtle about it - his eyes are stuck to her chest with no sign of averting any time soon. 
    "What would you recommend?" he asks the waitress, a seductive smile creeping up on his face as his blue eyes sparkle upon her.  They keep each other's gaze for a few seconds, their eyes dancing with flirtation.
    "I think you'll find the chardonnay most to your liking," the waitress giggles annoyingly. "It's our most popular wine,"
    Derren has not stopped staring at her and I have the strongest urge to kick him from under the table.  But I don't.  I just sit there in confusion, not quite believing that he's flirting with the waitress whilst on a date with me.
    "We'll get that then," I say rather quickly just to make Little Miss Sunshine here go away. 
    "Excellent choice," she beams, even though I know she has no clue.  Chardonnay is probably the only wine name she remembers.  "By the way, my name is Becky and I will be your waitress this evening," she dashes us another smile and disappears.
    Derren carries on chatting away as if his head wasn't practically in the waitresses' chest (OK, I may be exaggerating a little bit).  He asks me about my day and I'm just about to tell him a rather hilarious story concerning a dog and a chase through the park, but Becky's back with the bottle of wine. 
    "Here you are," she plonks the glasses down, looking straight at Derren and not once at me.  "Would you like to try the wine?" she asks Derren.
    "No!" I cut her short then realise that perhaps it sounded harsh.  "I'm sure it'll be fine,"
    She starts pouring the wine, leaning towards the table a little bit, giving Derren a nice, juicy view of her front. 
    All class is our Becky.
    Derren isn't even pretending not to notice it.  His eyes have once again landed on her cleavage.  With no shame at all he allows himself a little smile. 
    Are you serious?
    "Are you ready to order?" she asks and finally acknowledges me as I say yes.  "What would you like?"
    Another waitress, please.
    "Umm, I'll have the duck confit," I say not raising my head from the menu.  She scribbled it down and averts back to Derren.  He pretends to be scanning the menu. 
    "I'm torn between the salmon and the beef," he says and lifts his head up delicately.  That seductive smile aiming itself at Becky.  "Which would you order?" he asks, white teeth gleaming.
    Becky releases a little giggle and blushes.  Her cheeks have turned a rosy pink that is visible even in the dim lighting. 
    "Well, I'd probably have the beef," she giggles again and chews a strand of her hair whilst swaying on the spot. 
    "A girl after my own heart," Derren declares, "Beef it is,"
    Becky smiles again, jotting his choice down.  "That's an excellent choice, Sir," she says and turns to leave.  
    Wait, did she just courtesy at Derren?  Does she think he's some sort of lord?  He may have the accent, but trust me, he does not have the money.  And as of today, he's lacking the etiquette too. 

By the end of the meal, Becky has come over to our table about fifteen times.  Three of those times have been because Derren has called her over for her expertise on cattle farming, the capital of Finland and her advice on the best place for highlights.  I actually felt like a third wheel. I might as well have offered her my seat and gone around the restaurant playing waitress.
    "Desert?" Becky asks.
    "Definitely not!" I say quickly before Derren gets a chance to even speak.  "Just the bill, please," I just want to get out of here.  I can't believe it took me all those hours just to choose my dress.  I should have just worn pyjamas, because let's face it, there's no way Derren would have even noticed. 
    We stand up to leave the restaurant.  Becky comes over picking up the money (plus her incredibly generous tip).  "Hope you have a nice evening," she says.  I thank her even though I know it was only aimed at Derren.
    We walk outside. 
    "Oh, I've forgotten something," Derren says.  "Wait right here," and he disappears back into the restaurant.
    I'm left outside wondering about his sudden departure, so I walk over the the window of the restaurant.  I see Derren catching Becky's attention.  It's like watching some sort of animal mating ritual.  She turns and smiles completely ignoring the customers she's serving.  Derren gets out his phone and Becky is saying something to him, followed by a laugh.  Becky then sets down the plate she's holding and gets out her own phone.
    Oh my gosh!!!
    They're swapping numbers!!!
    I actually feel sick, and this time around I'll be aiming directly for him. 

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