Friday evening last week Eve picked me up at my house to go for that speed dating thingy they had organized. If my self-will and restraint hadn’t failed me I would have opted out of the whole thing. However, it was a Bac’s Day and I was obliged to go. It’s the only day in the week that Wisty is not busy (as in not appearing on TV) if she’s not on leave.
If they could know how I’d had one hell of a rollercoaster night (that I hoped it was a one nightstand), but I was not ready to peel a single layer of my private shenanigans and risk raising eyebrows (and trust me, those girls are the masters of raising eyebrows).
So, the event went on well. The organizers seemed intent on getting us dates speedily. Gwen was already there when we arrived while Wisty stormed in five minutes late looking as confused as though she’s a nun who’d wandered into a brothel.
The speed dating was to be conducted as per the organizers’ direction: we’d be divided into groups, both men and women (whom numbers faved); then we’d be allowed five minutes, seven tops, to do the date thing, talk with one person after which we’d leave them once the bell chimed to the next person.
It seemed a great idea for me ‘coz first, it was not into me, two, it slimmed the chances of raising anyone’s expectations and the pain of rejection, and three, it enhanced fast decision making mechanisms because within thirty seconds you’d have decided whether the ‘date’ you walked up to was good enough and then leave them before they could fart out ‘What the hell did I do or say wrong?’
Well, for me, I was doing it for the Bachelorette Club and hell knows I love those girls as I love spending time with them. I guess Galileo’s is better for me. Moreover, thinking of how I had been sloppy with the military guy made me feel off the curve.
For Gwen, Wisty and Eve it seemed the Bac’s Day of the year. When two hours later it was over and this time Wisty, who hailed from Hurlingham, driving me home, she told me that they had quite a number of probables and they were hopeful that the organizers would call them the following day with results of their matches they hoped it was what they had bargained for. And so it happened that their wishes were granted and the three of them had dates on Sunday. I was not called because I did not submit a list of those whom I would have wanted to be matched with. I didn’t tag along. I had a flight to catch the following day, Monday.
I was to come here where I am right now – Tel Aviv – home. It feels nice getting in touch with family again (the second time this year).
Dad’s fully recovered now and has resumed his position at GT, Israel, while mom runs the rest of the five family businesses.
Daliah was so happy that I’ve at last considered a family reunion and her daughter is bubbling like champagne that her auntie has brought her an artifact from Kenya – a carving of two morans.
I had thought that what had brought me here – GT AGM – would be over by the end of the week, but guess I was wrong. Or is somebody stalling deliberately?
So far I have run errands for dad – of course Daliah could have done that – to attend meetings with the friends of dads in the Knesset, a Yedioth Ahronoth meeting that turned out dad’s the majority shareholder (and he’d kept me in the dark all along and that it was him who’d pushed for the opening of the branch in Kenya and put me as the M.E.).
Nonetheless, I had to rush back to Kenya yesterday (Saturday) for the Eve Sisters Event at the Hilton Hotel. Gwendolyn had specially invited me and had even got my name amongst the speakers alongside the accomplished American writer and motivational speaker Cindy Trimm, Kenya’s high court judge, Njoki Ndung’u; Easy FM’s presenter Sheila Mwanyigha, Eve Woman’s Njoki Karuoya and Kiss 100’s Caroline Mutoko.
I got to use dad’s private jet to and fro, and it felt good being like one of those filthy rich billionaires Hollywood has modeled to gods of the dollar arena.
Since the AGM has not yet being held, my discussion with Daliah about trading our shares on the NSE has been relegated to non-importance.
And then I have issues to square with dad – what he knows about my illness, Upshaw-Schülman syndrome, and why am I getting the feeling that he is using me for his own selfish reasons.
Copyright ©Elove, 2013.