The Last Schmaltz

Hypothetical scenarios are fun because it's a chance to warp realities into your very own ideals. This supposed scenarios took a bizarre shape during an animated dinner with a bunch of people I am genuinely fond of. Streams of conversation finally tipped towards hypotheticals and as yet another manifestation of how the universe has a sick sense of humor Ms. Syrup popped this hair-splitting question:

“How do you imagine a perfect date?”

I clenched my jaws, knotted my tongue and feigned short-term deafness.

Not because I am an apathetic bastard. But because deep down my misanthropic hide I am the mortifying opposite. A fact I am keen on camouflaging as long as I can. No amount of bubbly or familiarity can ever make me spill my maudlin streaks in a spirited repartee among inebriated folks with sharp memories. The same is true with almost any personal details - things that I willfully obscure during boozy moments. While many of drunken friends regurgitate the most drippy confessions about love and such I shut up and cackle in glee in my head. A moment like this is a goldmine for blackmail.

But the question bugged me all the way home.

How, indeed!

Dear voyeur, If you are looking for blanket of stars, sex in the beach and the likes now is your last chance to make a sharp U-Turn and search for universal truths in Hollywood or the nearby Hallmark stand. I have none of that breed to offer especially now that I have realized that my idea of a perfect date is remotely swoon-worthy. In fact my ideas are so mundane it's not a spit away from serving a roomful of cannibals with boiled tofu.

Doomed (potential) Loudcloud dates can look forward to the following 'perfect date' scenarios. (Perfect is used arbitrarily here because the author is of unshakeable impression that perfection is a scary concept that do not exist yet insisted upon.)

Scene 03. (Preferably) A good-humored disagreement. Over dinner. You can get a glimpse of a person's character and strong convictions if you can get him/her to passionately disagree with you. Passion outlasts the temporary flickers of romance. This will also filter out echo chambers.

Scene 02. Show Me Yours I'll Show You Mine. Go over your date's flat (or vice versa) and plot a challenge: S/he pick his/her best five DVDs for you to watch and you do the same. You'll be surprised with two things: Potential Compatibility and your threshold of tolerance. (If s/he insist on repeated viewing of Yentl, Titanic and The Notebook dash for the woods screaming). Porn is not an option.

Topping the above is my schmaltzy streak:

01. Breakfast. I believe the metric of a great date is the lack of awkwardness the morning after. I'm no stranger to Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am episodes but allowing someone to stay and wake up next to the following morning says heaps about that tiny glint of ache that this encounter can be stretched far beyond momentary, wild, detached sex. This is where my mawkish fantasy would get on hyperdrive: Me, attempting to counterfeit Cafe Bola's Caramelized Spam for breakfast; The Date, surprising me with a new twist in brewing coffee. Both in tousled hair, underwear and creased white shirts. Laughing like lunatics. Thoughts freewheeling, hoping for ten million breakfasts like this to befall each other.

With each other. Permanently.