Slow Cooking by Iza Deleanu Nonfiction Writing Contest contest entry |
I wonder what I am going to do when I run out of things from my “fuck-it” list? But knowing me, I will always find something funny to add. So, after my unsuccessful adventure on the famous dating apps Dis-Harmony and Un-Matched, I decided to cross another classic method of slow-dating, oops pardon me, Speed Dating concept. The names of these types of activities are funny, too. Dash Dating, aka Dash and Go is the equivalent of my Cinderella number or the classical Latin motto Veni, vidi, sed non-vici, and I will add my two cents inimicus or maybe DaVinci! I heard he was a charmer in his prime. Then you have the Meet, Mix & Mingle, and I would add and still be single. After that, you get some biased announcements, just to be clear that you are mingling with the right crowd, like Straight Dating, Lesbian and Gay dating aka keep the disturbed and undefined creatures out, and then age discrimination, which goes against the Charter of Human Rights, for example, 25 plus, well what about 25 minus? You know we are in Alberta, and winter is coming, so we are not all hot mamacitas! And then you have 60 plus gold, you know that platinum record winner award of oldies but Goldies, where are my glasses kind of thing. I am okay with the bronze age as well. And role drums, here it comes the Despicable Me, my weight category the 45 to 50, wow, I can fit here kind of thing. But I already know for sure that I would do a little bit of cheating, for research’s sake, and crash next time the 35 to 45 borderline categories. I can fake it here because they say one or two years is acceptable. As a matter of fact, I might overindulge myself when I attend this age group by adding my four-year tops and cocktail signature! After all, I got the “looks,” and I can still get around with my child-like attitude for a couple of years tops. The number of desperate souls attending these events, myself included, amazes me. I told myself that I was doing this as an experiment, you know, research, to have something to write, aka brag about. The funniest part is that the ladies always arrive first, and they take a strategic position to assess the competition, aka the other "peaches-bitches” in search of the ONE. We are from all backgrounds, judging by the attire and the attitude. The irresistible Divas are dressed in Armani and show off some Gucci mochi purses. The stiff blondes eat once a year, and I am scared that if they go out, they might get hit by a hurricane and stranded in Kansas with Toto. Oh, wait, there is an east-Indian lady. I am so tempted to go and ask her what happened to Auntie that she is here instead of getting matched the old way… "You know, I know a guy, and he is a very good boy… he is a doctor. Makes good money." There are the Asian chicks! Man, for the first time in my life, I see them united and bashing those fake lashes. And there is me, the lost East European, who fills the stereotype blanks for being always taken for a Russian and now Ukrainian because of my accent. I am tired of educating my counterparts about my accent. Romanian is not even a Slavic Language, for Goodness' sake. If we are something to be compared to, we are closer to Italians and French than Russians. As for the décor, you should have seen some leggings, cleavage, tuxedos, and legs going and going. I shined in my overindulged casual attire, yoga pants; as you know, I don't do yoga, topped up with an autumnal blouse, with some scary accents of "Now you see me, now you don't"! For accessories, I opted out for a scarf that was saying alone ze mes enfants, aka French couture more obscure colours, my bag was airline approved, and my shoes, well, call me Pocahontas. No wonder my rating got a hitting … minus one mark. So, speed dating, oh man, I have zero charms in this area, as I am too slow to open a normal conversation, and by the time I find a theme, my 6 minutes are up. I guess I must go back to my HR classes to master the art of awkward monologue where you have 6 minutes to impress "the press," aka the interviewer or potential match. And here we go. I cannot say that the organizer was not prepared for that moment of silence, so they gave me and the other scatered souls a set of potential questions precisely like those job interviews, behavioural, situational, and the overused tell me something about yourself, aka who cares non-sense question. All my monologues focused on my hobbies and the travelling bug and emphasized my dancing queen attitude. You should've seen me strategically dashing and smashing on all fronts, with more mundane themes such as cooking and cleaning as the average girl. I mentioned that I mastered speed cooking, opening the fridge, closing it fast, and improvising. Slowly, I transformed my dating time into a travel agency, advising the poor souls searching for a cushion, which country they should visit next and giving some hints about the best time to go there. So, yeah, I had a blast, being in my element and talking with passion about what I love. At the end of the day, I didn't get even one like or follower. I also overused my fluffies as my only kids to impress, as my counterparts were the proud dads of two, three, and six kids in a toe. Of course, I couldn't keep my mouth shut, so I asked one guy, "So what did you do? Did you tell her, Honey, I am ready for number seven, and she ditched you?" As you can see, my Eastern European bluntness got the best of me! I think both genres are in difficulties during these speeding times, as is very hard to break the silence. I am not into mushrooms but as I made a joke about it I ended up talking with one of the guys about the effects of psychedelic elements on people living off the grid. The guy was just doing that and having mushrooms instead of heroin. Well, I guess if I ever join the party, I will opt in for the veggie version as well, since I care about my health and all. Frankly, the only mushroom I ever met in my life, are the ones provided by the Safeway stores. I can do some delicious cuisine extravaganza experiments with them. I ended up discussing baking bread with another guy. Truth be told, I have zero talent in the baking section; my sister, on the other hand, is a Pro. And all because he told me he was exhausted because he had to wake up at 4 pm to make dough. Jokingly, I asked him what else he could bake, and he told me that he could do some decent meals. Damn it, a keeper, but well, I was not one of the Gucci Mochi posh Divas, aka the chosen one, so I guess I have to learn to do some decent cooking myself. Men nowadays are all about big words, just like in that song: I can do the cooking, I can do the cleaning, and I would not so innocently ask, how about children? Can you bear those, too? I have not asked to meet a maid, but with my practical skills, I am all for a handy-dandy piece of man. All I wanted was someone who could’ve potentially enjoyed all the above as if they were doing it together. But my Hallmark dream got crushed, as He will do all that while I am out dreaming; at least he could do it in theory, as there was no practical challenge to test those skills. I, on the other hand, passed with flying colours the test of being a freaking bitch, that got mingled in the crowd for the wrong reasons. You know me, and the all I do anything for research attitude! In conclusion, I scratched this activity from my conqueror list, as the chance to get something decent out of it is precisely the same as my unrealistic expectations of winning the lottery. I might give in occasionally for Laughs, especially since it comes out with quality time with a glass of wine and some human introspection. What's next on my discovery list? Well, have you heard about those events called Dine Out with strangers? I will waste funds on those just to satisfy my crazy Aquarius sense of adventure and shut up the wise owl, aka Virgo, screaming full volume, "Stop, in the name of God, there is no love out there! Can you see there is no love in the cards for you? No matter how many horoscopes you are listening to. Please stop humiliating yourself; putting those funds towards a trip or something would be better." And my crazy Aqua woman saying: “Why can I have both? It's just for research, darling. Let's roll the dice and not think twice!" People, obviously dating is not a good trade for me as I am missing that je ne sais quoi spark. So, I’ll keep on swimming, live my Mermaid nature, and splash a dash of che sara sara, whatever would be would be, until my last breath. Age for sure cannot beat that, as I stopped discriminating against myself and stopped counting the 49th, 50th, 20th, 60th as it’s just a number, or as my best friend says, I am 29 people, come and not ‘get me!’
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Iza Deleanu
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