My opinions about Scottish men might just be improving. In previous posts I whined about Scottish men being shy, reserved, and unlikely to make the first move. However, I might just have to eat my words.
Last night I went to a "Singles" Ceilidh (whatever! Don't judge me!) and had loads of fun. I had been to one Ceilidh before when I was an international student at Glasgow University and they hosted one to assimilate all of us international weirdos into Scottish culture. Now, as a Canadian, when I hear "folk dancing" by reflex I shiver and flashback to highschool in Napanee, where we were forced to line dance to Billy Ray Cyrus in gym class (I wish I was lying).
Scottish folk dancing is anything but. Ceilidh's are all about drinking, skipping around in circles, swinging your dance partner around the floor with as much velocity as possible, and trying to catch a glimpse as the cute boys in kilts kick their legs up. All good things.
So, right. The singles ceilidh.
When you arrived, your picture was taken with a Polaroid and you were given a number (mine was lucky number 13). Just above the dance floor, there was a gallery where your picture was hung up and you were assigned a mailbox. Throughout the evening, you could go up and write someone a "flirt card" and put it in their box. It was all very non-confrontational.
It started off with little promise. I arrived to find very few cute boys that I fancied. Just as I was about to numb my depression with another drink, two hunky dudes who looked to be in their 30s arrived - both wearing kilts. The one with the dark hair and dark features (always a favourite) was well put together in his cute little kilt and boots. For the next half an hour, my friend and I gawked at the cute boy in the kilt and his equally cute friend. My friend, feeling the liquid courage, decided to go up to the photo gallery and write a flirt card (to who, I don't know). As she was up there, she noticed the dark-haired cute boy in a kilt writing out a flirt card as well. As he finished writing, he headed over to drop it into the mailboxes - only he was walking towards the male side of the room.
"Oh, that's the wrong side; that's the men's side", my friend said - tactful as always.
"Yeah, I know. I'm bisexual," he replied without breaking his stride.
My friend rushed downstairs to tell me the horrific news.
Fuck. Now I'm not only competing with the other women in the room but the dudes as well?!
Forgetting the dark-haired "bisexual" (read: GAY GAY GAY) cutie in a kilt, I went off to do some Scottish dances and try not to pass out. Afterwards, my friend and I went up to see if we had received any messages/stupid flirt cards.
No, we had not.
Just as we were about to turn around and go downstairs to nurse our bruised egos, another dark-haired cutie in a kilt - who was standing in front of us - caught my eye. I guess he saw me staring because he turned to me and said, "Hello. I haven't seen you out on the dance floor; are you going to dance?"
Trying to be cool, I replied, "I've been out there. I guess you haven't been paying attention". But really, I was thinking "ohmigawdohmigawdohmigawd. Hot boy. In kilt."
He asked how my night was going and I told him the truth - it was going pretty awesome but I couldn't believe I had yet to receive a stupid flirt card?! He said he would write me one on the spot. Which he did. And so, being a modern lady, I wrote him one too. I asked him if he had anything on under his kilt. He replied that he was a traditionalist. ohmigawdohmigawdohmigawd, was all I kept thinking.
And so, we exchanged flirt cards and I happened to peek and see that he had quite a few. Shit. I only got one and that's only because I happened to moan to said cute boys in a kilt #2. Not that I need a stupid fucking flirt card to validate my self-worth or anything. Nope, not at all. Shit...Cute boy in a kilt #2 was really flirty and almost too charming. So I called him on it (I'm sure some of you are shaking your heads in mild embarrassment); I told him, you're such a player! He replied that he wasn't going to lie and yes, that he used to be in his 20s but he's changed now that he was grown older (he's 31. Or 32. I forget). I don't know, I thought, can pigs change?
The night wound down and I hadn't received any flirt cards. Granted, I was asked to dance a few times but come on - it's folk dancing. As I was walking home I received a text. From cute boy in a kilt #2 (ohmigawdohmigawdohmigawd). He asked me if I wanted to go out sometime - maybe Friday night? I texted him back to say that I was busy. Just as quickly he texted me back and asked about Sunday.
I gave in.
Ok, sure, Sunday evening. Sunday is safe because you can't get up to too much trouble on a school night, so to speak. So, we are meeting for a drink early Sunday evening.
As I was walking to work this morning I received another text from cute boy in a kilt #2, wishing me a good morning and asking if I had access to email because he wanted to email me. How sweet.
And although I'm deeply flattered, I can't stop picturing that little stack of cards.