11th too late ✔

xi/ Rishab and a Christian Grey's wannabe

"You so did not!" I fake a laugh, pretending to be interested in how Rishab here, once mistook a cat for a baby tiger.

"I did, and believe me, I did not come out until my best friend came back home." his Indian accent slides through his tongue smoothly as he narrates how he locked himself in a wardrobe for five hours out of fear of a cat. LAST WEEK!

So this man, sitting beside me, while eating from a cotton candy stick, who for the life of him can NOT defend himself from a cat that only meowed his way. Would actually like to probably take things further with me, - a lady who would at one or two or more points in life, need a man to protect me from things bigger and more life threatening than a cat.

I can't afford to have a scared me and a scared man by my side, trying to use me as a boost to get to the safer side during a challenge.

His looks are not that bad. In fact, they are not bad at all, but just the looks won't count. And I have to plan a get away, because I can't stand his scary self tales anymore.

With hesitation not in sight, I crouch in fake pain and holding a hand to my tummy, Rishab quickly holds onto me, his voice trembling a tad bit more than an earth quake.

"Ch-champ-pagne, w-what's wr-r-rong?"

I scrunch my face up in false shear pain, stretching my arm and holding on tightly to his impressive muscle. What a waste of muscles.

"Get me water, water..." I tell him, I see as his mouth part to protest, maybe, but I'm quick to shut him up, "now!"

His eyes widen, then he raises his finger, "water, right?" he runs a short distance before turning back, his brows furrowing, "are you sure you're o-"

"Go!" I demand, which has him running away.

Once I see he's at a safe distance, I take that as my chance to escape, never to be seen or heard from by him, ever again. Hopefully.

Date six:

I didn't even get too far into this Christian Grey wannabe's date, as he kept his shoulders straightened and barely a smile grazed his face, not even a twitch I tell ya.

His grey suit and nicely cut hair was impressive, to be very honest, but he barely even talked, so the awkward silence almost killed me.

"Take off your panties." he demanded.

That's when I really looked at him, he wasn't even as good looking as Jamie Dornan, in fact, he didn't make the cut at all. And it surprised me that I was only just noticing.

Maybe I was unconsciously taking the 'looks don't count' thing a little too seriously. But taking a good look at his face, I definitely and instantly changed my mind.

Life is short, after all.

Who looks that bad, and still have a horrible personality? I mean, rotten foods would be obviously jealous of the threat.

So I straightened my dress again, huffed and - you guessed right - dumped the contents of my iced drink in his face and walked away, after flipping my hair of course.

The flipping matters, it is a very significant part to a dramatic exit.

Despite my failure at getting a man with whom my fancy giggles at, I don't relent, as I am determined to get a man. I CAN get a good man for myself, and I WILL.

Just four more dates to go.

•••

Sometimes I'm like, 'why are you still writing this book? It's not even that good, just look at other better works.' then my master shifu brain comes into view with a cape to shut me up with a, 'if you don't keep writing, you will never get better. You're good, keep going, DON'T EVER STOP.'

Never give up folks, on anything, really. Keep going, you'll achieve an actual result one day, it's like they say; "Rome wasn't built in a day."

Now that we've passed the phase of me being wise. Let's move on to the next chapter, and thank you for reading this long ass author's note.