Tales of Stupidity: MEN

This is the second part of the tales. The first one, dedicated to women, is here.

He’s coming to Edinburgh for a week-end and we arrange to meet for a dinner on Sunday night.

On Sunday morning, however, instead of a confirmation e-mail I receive a cancellation one. It comes with a story: on Thursday night, when he’d landed in Edinburgh, he met a lovely girl at the airport (let’s say she was German) who also had just arrived to Edinburgh for the week-end. He got her number and texted her* the next day but never heard back. And then on Saturday he ran into her while sightseeing; it turned out that the settings of her German mobile wouldn’t allow her to text him back on his French number while in Scotland, that’s why she didn’t reply. She now agreed to have dinner with him on Sunday night, so he has to cancel our date.

Yes, of course I giggled a little and even said “Oh, honey!” but my reply read along the lines of “good luck! Hope you get what you’re after”. He immediately e-mailed back saying that he wasn’t after anything, he simply really liked the girl and wanted to make friends. I do wonder why he said it. His mother may have bought it. But me?

Here’s a woman’s take on this story.

Imagine you’re the German girl. At the airport you meet a bloke and you give him your number. You receive a message from him the following day and…

And if you really like the bloke and really think there might be something there, what do you do if your phone inexplicably tells you that you can’t reply his message? Exactly! You call him. If you can’t call him from your mobile, then you call him from your hotel room phone or from a payphone. Because if you really want to see him again, you only have these 2 days in Edinburgh for it.

Edinburgh escortsIf, however, you only gave him your number because he was sweet and you didn’t want to upset him, you ignore his text and get on with your short holiday. And when by some super-unlucky chance you run into him when sight-seeing, what do you do? That’s right! You concoct this story of how you couldn’t get back to him. Because even if you’re German, it’s still impolite to say something like “Yeah, I think I got something from you yesterday, but I couldn’t be bothered to read it and deleted it straight away”.

And now imagine you’re the French man. You have a sexy date arranged for Sunday night. Then on Saturday you meet a lovely German girl who agrees to have dinner with you on Sunday. Here are your options:

  • You can meet your lady of fixed-rate virtue and have sex – guaranteed. Or
  • You can meet your German girl and, with luck, you can have sex for free – no guarantee though. Or
  • You can lie to yourself that you’re not interested in sex at all: the German girl is only a friend and you cancel your date (sex guaranteed) to spend a sexless evening with her.

But we already know that the German girl isn’t going to be enthusiastic about sex**. So the inevitable happens: at 10pm on Sunday night the poor young man, having stopped lying to himself, calls his lady of fixed-rate virtue to ask if she’s still free and willing to see him after all.


* Don’t. DON’T ever text the woman whose number you just got. Apart from the fact that it’s just plain bad manners (and she will be right to ignore your message), you run the risk of not knowing if your text was delivered, if it was delivered to the right person, or if the woman it was intended for is actually happy to hear from you.

** Actually, no, we don’t know that the German girl refused to have sex with him. Maybe the dinner was so good that she agreed. In which case his call to me later only proves the old axiom that if you want something done well, either do it yourself, or pay a professional.

And yes, it’s the same image for entries for men as well as women.


… and the truth is that you do a number of things so very well, and your professionalism does shine through.

Frans van Rossum

Wonderful. Thanks for sharing, EJ. A tale with a cliff hanger. In the end, did or didn’t you see the Frenchman after such a sorry cancellation excuse?
And what makes you file Prince Charming’s lovely Circe under “German”? as in “(let’s say she was German)” and “Because even if you are German…” : Even??? :)))

For me, little windows like these onto human minds rambling through the labyrinth of lonely lusts have been the icing on the profession’s cake, although I hate people making intentionally fake dates as I thought was what probably happened in your case here.

May I share one of my own favorites? It’s edited from my diary entries, early September 1965, the days of the black Bakelite dial telephone.

One Tuesday I had accepted a fixed-rate date with a local lady who had an elite, three-storey high Portuguese last name. She said an acquaintance had recommended me and given her my number. I quickly checked her name and address against the telephone directory. We agreed to meet the following Friday evening in the lobby of the best hotel in town for a cozy dinner and the rest in a room that she would book there. On Friday around noon I called the hotel to make sure someone with her name had made a reservation for the night. Front desk confirmed it so I was in the lobby in time to await her. About ten minutes after the agreed hour a middle-aged messenger walked up to me, an old-style well-dressed butler of sorts. He excused the lady. At the last minute unexpected visitors had arrived and she had to cancel the appointment. He wanted to give me 20 guilders from her so I could buy myself a dinner somewhere. I did not accept the money but gave him my business card for his mistress with the message that I would contact her. The receptionist was kind enough to tell me that the reservation had been cancelled around four o’clock.

That same night I sent my date an invoice for the full amount we had agreed upon due to no-show. Payment within three working days. I expected nothing but the day after next she called concerning my invoice. She refused to pay because of her legitimate excuse.

“Friday around six a terrible migraine hit me.”
“Your messenger said unexpected visitors had arrived.”
“That is the same, darling. But didn’t you need your dinner?”
“I’m doing fine and I expect your payment or you can wait for the bailiff.”
“Darling, my thing is ehhh… that fantasizing about sleeping with a young man of your poor dubious class is really all I need. Mrs. X tells me you have such dirty fantasies. Why don’t you write me what you would have done to me?”
“Honey, shall we talk about it after I have received your payment for our cancelled date plus a 50% down payment for a writing agreement, same rate?”
“A dirty mind is a joy forever,” she whispered and tried add more of the same. I wished her a good day and hung up. A few days later I had half of my money in the bank. Reason for the payment: “legal advice.” I didn’t pursue it further. I never heard from her again until a few years later when a colleague happened to tell a story about a lady stalking him over the phone after an cancelled date in the same hotel. The same Portuguese last name. It had taken him much longer to shake her off and he had not been able to make one penny from her.

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