Monday, May 9, 2011

How to Date a Slab of Granite

[Part 3 of "The Manual" series]

Smile but do not speak a word. Let your teeth do the talking. To leave her question hanging is to inspire every possible answer to brew in her mind. After twenty seconds and a sip of Brunello di Montalcino, the absence of a reply will further confuse her. She will have to force herself to guess your age. While she utters one random number after another, observe her crimson lips; they move smooth and ever so delicate. You know you want to taste them so bad. Unfortunately, mischief gives birth to embarrassment. Restrain your mouth from trumpeting an expletive by doing two things in seriatim: fork a slice of beef steak and stuff it in. Your silence is golden, her patience is silver, and mutual pretense of interest is bronze. By this time, she starts to think you are worse than a runner on a limbo, terrified to finish a marathon. In your mind, though, your victory has just begun. Fork another slice and continue with the race.

Anticipate the next query. Since the interrogation is purely a tactical procedure, consistently give the wrong answer even if a question is yet to be asked. At least, you are consistent. Examine the facial expressions and hand gestures of your inquisitor. Note how the eyebrows are raised and the frequency in which they come to life just to annihilate every point you make. You interpret it as an omen. She thinks so, too, except that she is the only one who is not ecstatic about it. Survey the constant fidgeting and the deep breaths that go with her forced smiles. If you look close enough, you will recognize a grimace waiting to explode. Five seconds after, you will see something else. Recall the birth of a piece of granite.

A granite is an igneous rock. Once a molten volcanic material nesting in the bowels of the earth, it has become a cold and hard slab, lifeless then and even now. It lost its warmth several days after the eruption. It was a grand explosion that jettisoned ash and debris toward the rustic twilight sky, furnishing the heavens with enough spite from hell. A crater is a geological wound nursed by a monolith. As with all things that bleed, it festers through time, creating mild tremors that scale the course of its length. After the exit from that fiery crevice, a granite becomes just another transformed object wearing all the required corrugations for imperfection. Blink. When the trance is over, return your attention to your date who is about to explode in a fit of verbal onslaught. Ask her about granites.

You gave the wrong question. She gave the right answer.

Remember that a date is a pastiche of typical job interviews. Rarely does it truly become a prelude to a romantic affair. The other person is the boss, the one who wields the payroll with tender fingers and polished nails. It leaves you with no other choice but to assume the role of the applicant. Do not be submissive, though. Display your arrogance like peacock feathers refusing to fold against the lashing of a midnight gale. Amplify your ego by feeding it with more delusion than you can handle. Your balls start to swell and take the image of Charlie Sheen you can almost sit on them. But as the night lengthens, rejection will be your full name. Be unafraid to be called by that misnomer. It is harmless unless you are not Charlie Sheen.

You are not.

Look up and mumble a phrase. Know that this will be your last supper with her and, between the two of you, she is not the one to be crucified thereafter. You feel like Judas atoning for the sins of all the waiters in the restaurant, including the chef. Tell your date that the price of the entire dinner irritates your nose and tongue: it smells like trouble and tastes like your one month salary. Squeeze every possible permutation for your confession. Refuse to fish your wallet from your pocket because, to quote your typical passenger jeep, God knows Hudas not pay.

The bill has been settled. Exit stage left or wherever there is enough space to squeeze your Charlie Sheen balls through. No hugs, no goodbyes, no complications—like a date that never was, and never will be again.

Understand one final thing. Throughout, you are the slab of granite. Learn from the experience. There will come a time when you will also date a lifeless piece of rock. By then, you already know what to do.

Your mission is accomplished. But somehow, you are consumed by remorse and guilt.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5


green breaker said...

I saw refractions of Mr.Bean on dinner. lol

SPLICE said...

I think I saw him there, too. Thanks for dropping-by! :)

ken said...

Have you ever been to a blind date? Or this clever manual based on your sophisticated anecdote? Galing! One more thing if you don‘t mind, that I may borrow some of the lines. Please?

SPLICE said...

I have never been to a blind date, just the usual, or casual, date. But I'm not telling if this post has something to do with my real life in recent memory hehehe

Go ahead, borrow the lines you would like to borrow. Language or prose [or the essence of a vignette, to be specific] should never be monopolized. Thanks for the compliment dude!

gaye said...


he has never been on a blind date. he may have dated a blind, but he never was on a blind date!


mishu splice...

pearlyn said...

just visiting. :)

haha. it is fun reading this post. I am used to being called as a dense lifeless rock. :D

SPLICE said...

True that :)

That makes two of us. I'm surprised that you found your way here, though hehehe :) Remember Route 196?

pearlyn said...

you know me?!? were you in route 196?!

SPLICE said...

Not personally, not that much. But there was that particular "incident" which I still remember well. Remember Keith? I was with the group :)

pearlyn said...

yeah. That memory has still surviving remnants. oh. I forgot to say, nice definition of granite. HAHA. (I'm taking masters in geology kasi.)