The Yacht Club
You’re Mum liked me… a lot!
The Yacht Club was a well-established bar here in Dubai but has recently made way for another 5* hotel along the marina walk. Because drinking here is expensive, expats more often choose to socialize in places that at the very least have 2-4-1 deals on drinks.
On a perfectly warm February evening I decide to go out for a few drinks with my friends and quite quickly find myself sat in front of 2 (perhaps 4 or 6) perfectly chilled beers. My friends and I have even managed to score a table outside which is unheard of at post work drinks on thirsty Thursday.
As the evening progresses it becomes clear that I am the target of a very attractive blonde lady that is standing by the entrance talking with her friends. It’s important to note here that your Dad has zero skills in the ‘chat up’ department. I mean I am seriously useless, so bad in fact that I can’t even fucking ‘wing man’ with any great effect. Basically, I’m a bloody dickhead when it comes to knowing when women are interested in me and trying to talk to them in a social setting is an unmitigated clusterfuck. Ask any of my mates and they’ll tell you the same thing.
However, your Mother’s intentions were made clear even to me when she invited herself to sit down next me and ‘chat’. Well, she was doing most of the chatting while I was just happy to, probably not so slyly, perve at her boobs.
What is interesting here is that within that conversation I explained to Mum that I was leaving Dubai and heading off to Australia to start a new life in the next few months. That didn’t seem to distract her from her mission, so we continue.
As the night goes on we do a bit of bar hopping, doing shots and listening to our friends make giant twats of themselves in the alcohol induced belief they are the second coming of Freddy Mercury at the Karaoke bar where we are warned several times to stop pashing/snogging in public. FYI: Public displays of affection are not allowed in UAE.
So Bean, this is where it gets interesting. It turns out we live down the road from each other so we decide to share a taxi. The taxi journey conversation invariably turns towards ‘where to first?’ I went up for coffee ☺
Given the fact that my plan is still to relocate to Australia your Mum in all her wisdom comes up with a plan… a deal of sorts. Let’s be ‘friends with benefits’. This is clearly a winner with me and I quickly agree to the terms. Your Mum is gorgeous, she’s a wonderful lover and we live 5 minutes from each other… no brainer, right?
Now, apart from my obvious physical attributes your Dad is a caring, generous and loving man by nature and is an excellent cook. I assumed all guys are the same… your Mum tells me that they most certainly are not (a few frogs have come and gone her way). Soon enough your Mum is overwhelmed by what I have to offer and starts to fall in love with me. At this particular time, I didn’t feel I was at the same point… I am a slow learner. Your Mum quickly corrected that.
A week or two later and over a few bottles of wine on the balcony your Mum expresses her emotions to me and asks me if I feel the same. I knew deep down that I did but for some stupid reason hadn’t considered saying it out loud. Sure enough she dragged it out of me… ‘I do fucking love you Susie!’ (Just you wait, she’ll do the same to you!) It wasn’t so hard to say but I objected to having it drawn out of me so my response was more curt than lovey dovey. What a dick your Dad is!
Lesson: if you love someone, tell them.
Another lesson: learn to cook and be excellent at it.
(The way to both a man and woman’s heart is through a well-cooked meal and a nice bottle of wine… flowers and chocolates are for amateurs – be sure to make a fab pudding).
So now ‘friends with benefits’ is out the window and we’re in love and living together. What the shit just happened?!
Now I’m about to hit the fast forward to the wedding and the time leading up to it. It’s about 2 years… hold on.