Finding boyfriend

I have a thing for dark men. The past 18 months, the men in my life were typically caramel, mocha, or chocolate and barely twenty. Sometimes I adored them from afar. Sometimes we became lovers. But they were always, one way or another, unavailable. I wanted 2010 to be different. And in order to find something mutual, I was ready to move up.

“Dear Universe,
I, Lauren, now welcome into my life, a beautiful boyfriend. Dark, between 27 and 37. He’s an academic, like me. He is successful, ambitious, uncreative, overworked, and suffering from spiritual poverty. I will cure him from the last three, and in return he will inspire me to work hard and make more money. He is crazy in love with me, and I am crazy in love with him. Our relationship is passionate and loving, and we are both very happy.
Thank you.”

Now that the Universe knew who to send, all I needed to do was to find him. And I knew just the girl to help me out: Nathalie. When it comes to meeting guys, she is the one to talk to.

Nathalie likes to go out, but will also invite you for a sleep-over with tea, all the cookies you can eat, a double bed, and breakfast with eggs. I always leave with the feeling of falling short, but I do enjoy her Royal treatment.
Nathalie, on the other hand, loved my change of mind:
“I am sooooo happy that you’re over those young guys!” She welcomed the new task of finding me a coloured successful academic. “We can now finally go to the over-30 bars. Maybe I will meet someone nice as well.”
I turned pale at the word “over-30 bar”, but quickly smothered my feelings with two pieces of confetti cake.  Over 30 bar! Yay!  This was before I knew what such a place looked like.

On Nathalie’s Barbie-pink scooter we went to three bars. The last one had good atmosphere, service and drinks. The first two had all the customers, strong bare light, huge windows, and eighties music. Hundreds of gray mouse outfits offered a direct portal to the early 90’s.  These guys wore sweaters that were tight around the belly; not small t-shirts, covering mocha coloured six packs.  Their teeth were stained by cigarettes or Rioja; no pearly whites, smiling in chocolate dark faces. Dating 30+ was not for the faint at heart.  “Do they have something to eat here?” I weakly suggested. “I don’t feel too well.”

After our three-bar adventure we needed a breather and went to our old hang-outs, two South American inspired lounge bars. Big leather Cuban chairs. Dark corners. Dimmed light. They even had a salsa night.  I immediately ordered two cocktails, because they came with umbrella’s, and feasted on hot snacks ( bitterballen from Dobbe!) even though I am a vegetarian.
“Everything is so nice here,” I sighed, as I sipped my drink and stared over the dance floor. “Do you think I will ever find a boyfriend?”
Nathalie followed my gaze.
“ Oh no! Don’t you dare!” she warned me.
“ What?” I asked between sips.
“ The kid! I bet he’s not even 20 yet!”
She was right. I was staring at a young dark boy.
“Can’t I just go over and see if he’s handsome?” I begged.
But Nathalie wouldn’t have any of it.

We ended our night at a place where girls dance on the bar, and a rock cafe with live music. Neither one held beauty nor brains, but neither did we anymore, so that was okay.  At 2 a.m. she pulled me from the barstool. “Let’s go home. I have sushi for us, in the fridge.” The next morning I went through her eBay wardrobe: all the stuff she wanted to sell. I tried a pair of wide jeans, and asked her how much they were.
“Nothing. Please have them. They look just perfect on you.”

The brand of the jeans was For All Mankind.
And the model The boyfriend.