Okay, a brief respite from the sports discussions. Let’s talk about the trouble with South African girls...
Now first, let me state that I’m no player and ladies’ man wannabe, but I do pride myself on my looks and my ability to attract the attention of girls in search of a good time. Let’s just call it Aussie charm – you either have it or you don’t.
So on Monday night I’m sitting in some pub not too far from my flat in Parktown and enjoying a pub meal with a cold beer when in walks this party of three. I reckon their ages were between 18 and 23. Real lookers!
So I finish my food and down my beer, then saunter over to their table to introduce myself.
I start speaking and the one girl laughs, right in my face. Clearly she’s never heard an international accent before.
Being hardy and fairly thick-skinned emotionally, I upped my game and forged ahead, making small talk and doing the odd bit of flirting here and there.
When I offered to take up the free seat, neither young lady objected which confirmed my suspicions that I was gaining ground amidst these floozies.
At this stage, I had ordered a few rounds of shooters for the girls, not to take advantage of them of course, but rather to wear down their inhibitions so that we could better get along (sometimes we need to use all the tricks as our disposal to have a good time).
I won’t use their real names as I don’t wish to embarrass anyone, but let’s just say, ‘Kate’, was really coming onto me by about 10pm, and the other two weren’t far off either.
I just kept working my natural charm, cracking jokes, talking about my mother back home, and then I sensed things were cooling off.
I ordered another round of shooters, but when the waitress came with the drinks, the ladies declined. So I ended up tossing them back myself.
We continued making small talk about the country, our jobs, sport and politics, and then without warning, the ladies were collecting their bags and saying goodbye.
I’m still trying to figure out what went wrong. Was it my clothes? My hair? The gold-capped tooth? Couldn’t have been some trendy fashion thing cause these girls were dressed like hookers.
I’ve been battling to sleep for days now, trying to figure out what went wrong. My approach would have worked just fine in any Australian pub.
Without personal insults then, could anyone help explain what happend? It’s either something I did or didn’t do, or the Saffa girls are even less friendly than the men here.
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