meeting the One

Turns out Lenny had absolutely nothing to worry about. You know how sometimes you get lucky and meet your fantasy boy/girl, and then the fantasy is broken?

So. For weeks Lenny’s been bugging me to blog about my work date with Hottie McAussie (see below) but something always made me stop short. At first I thought it was work fatigue.

But now I think, maybe, definitely, it’s because the whole experience was a bit um, underwhelming.

Wait wait before you call me ungrateful bitch listen! First, the leadup. On June 4th, Obama addresses Muslim leaders in Cairo and the news is so big that Editor wants me to do a podcast about the significance of this speech.

E: "You should interview our resident expert."

Me: "Oh..who?" (I know the answer already. HM!!! HM!!! I'd dreamt of this day...)

E: "Hottie McAussie*." (my lips tremble) "And do it soon before the news gets too old."

So then I spend the next 3 days hyperventilating and researching who Obama is, where Cairo is, etc. I must NOT sound like an idiot.

The ‘interview’ was set for 10:30am Monday morning, so of course I go in at 9:45am to test all the podcasting equipment 100 times. I'm done by 10am...30 minutes left to potentially faint.

Meanwhile my HM senses tell me he's already in the office, and when I walk around I notice we are in fact the ONLY 2 people in the newsroom (plus recep and an OA). Still, I can’t bring myself to his lair to see if he wants to start early. In fact, I can't really talk. Lenny sms' me telling me to breathe again. I breathe, stop for a couple minutes, breathe again. Spend almost 30 minutes doing this. I know, I know, I’m a grown-up. I’m a REPORTER, for chrissakes.

10:29...I hold my breathe and march over. The marching was overcompensating for nerves. HM looks up and grins, ‘Hullo! Sara, right?’ I squeak “yeah!” and super-casually lead him to the podcast room.

On the way over he asks me how Taipo is and I say something dull like how morale is low.

But but but halfway through talking I can tell he doesn’t care, and suddenly I'm emboldened. Hottie, you may be hot but at least PRETEND to give a damn for 20 seconds.. or don't ask in the first place! HMPH!

10:35...we're settled in the room. I'm not quite as nervous even though he’s sitting right across from me. For the first first time I notice that he is not quite proportionate...his legs are very, very very skinny, his frame is about the size of mine, his head's a bit big. Needs a haircut.

And though Lenny disagrees, I find light grey pinstripe suit/pink shirt combo on a short Asian man a bit too gay.

But hey, not like this is a date, right? I fire away - and by fire away, I mean I barely speak above a whisper as I stare a hole into my page of questions. My voice is so shaky and quiet I actually have to repeat a few times.

Melt a bit when HM reassures, “it’s fine, take your time.” He’d be a great dad.

But then he starts talking and suddenly.....I dunno. Found myself missing Teddy. HM's answers to some basic questions were a bit short and waaay too convoluted for me, let alone a young ESL student, to understand. And he's saying 'um' a lot, and I just feel sorry for CC.

Then when I try to get him to clarify points he looks mildly impatient and I back down. Boring.

10:45am...We’re done, thank god. He runs out before I can pat his head.

So, Teddy and I talked for almost 30 minutes but HM and I are done in 10. That says something. It says that my relationship with HM can never advance past voyeurism.