The Crush

A week in San Francisco and things have not really gone according to plan.

Came out with SoyBoy who's interviewing for a new job after blowing his hedge fund up in New York. According to SoyBoy it was all his brother-in-law's fault.

So after having a preliminary interview in NY with a new hedge fund during which SB got into argument with interviewer - not really what one should strive for, we went west for the next stage. The whole deal was set up by a friend of SB who assured him it was a shoe-in. Meeting the friend for dinner on Saturday night with girlfriend in tow (moi) was also not the brightest move.

We arrive and then the Friend arrives. The scene is a dive bar with pool tables. I and SB are dressed accordingly - jeans, jumpers, trainers. Friend arrives shortly thereafter: dressed for a HOT DATE; plunging neckline on some velvety strapless number, double DD breasts impressively displayed like freshly baked souffles - begging to be plundered. It was then that I realised that Friend was actually Crush.

Who out of the three of us was the most embarrassed? I wanted to slip under the pool table and hide in the ball cavity for the rest of the night. Crush was utterly mortified; swiveling from me to SB - boobs windmilling with her head. SB, flapping his arms like some seagull. Opening and closing his mouth without uttering anything he then turned on his heel muttering something about going to the bar. Bastard!

Unable to fit into my desired hidyhole I launched into "SB's told me soooo much about you" mode. A big fat lie but I was trying to salvage the situation. When Crush replied "I'm sorry what's your name?" things didn't look great for the rest of the evening and it was only 6.30.