(This is a way old draft, but it’s fun, so here it is)

Queue the sexist jokes, because that’s exactly what I am talking about.  AWWW YEAH!

But no. This is a true story that I’m going to share with my readers (are there any? who cares). A friend of mine, who is a cultural entrepreneur and a jack-of-all-arts organizes these really cool poetry/music/stand up/whatever evenings in The Hague every month. He, like me, is good at what he does, but he’s also good at social networking; something I completely suck at. I mean, I’ve had this blog for ages and almost nobody took notice. I was sure I’d have a book deal by now – just kidding. But he invites all his friends, who invite their friends, and though it’s never really been a massive affair (at least the ones I’ve been to), it’s always nice to see other people and maybe even make some new acquaintances.

So this was I think in February and the performance turned into an after party, and before we knew it, it was 2 am (way past my bedtime) and Anna an I had to go back to Delft. First, I should introduce Anna; she’s and ex-colleague and an American acquaintance; and now a friend (she’s on a trip for the weekend, and I’ll feed her cat tomorrow morning). Anyway, she wanted to go, because she really misses some sort of English-speaking culture in Delft, plus she and my cultural entrepreneur friend got on quite well during my housewarming in October, so it was only natural we went.

So as we were heading to walk toward the station, one of the girls (I find it awkward to write “woman”, even if she is in her twenties, I mean, I would never refer to myself as a man and I’m 22, I see myself as a guy) asked if we would walk with her to her flat which is near the station. Being 2 am, I agreed, since there was no point in trying to be a bastard, though I did warn her (and Anna), that despite looking like a man, I’m actually very non-confrontational and would be the first one to run away in case we got into some kind of trouble. But as we know, it’s all about appearances anyway, and as long as I don’t have narrower shoulders, long hair and a pair of boobs, I can play the role pretty convincingly.

As we were going, Anna was whining about food. I wasn’t all that hungry, and eating that late isn’t really what 9 out of 10 doctors recommend either. But nevertheless, during our 15 minute walk we got on pretty well, which resulted in us being invited for a sandwich. I was rather indifferent at this point, but if a kind stranger invites you and a friend over for free food, you shouldn’t refuse. Anyways, I won’t give too much away, except that the sandwiches were impossibly tasty (pita bread with avocado, cucumber, feta cheese, tomato and olive oil). I actually really dislike tomatoes most of the time (or I say i do), but the thing was so darn good! I truly mean it. It felt kind of weird, because of course, a girl making a sandwich for a guy is the punchline of many sexist jokes, but this is for the first time that a girl made a sandwich for me just like that. It was a random act of kindness and I guess those are the best.

I think that all first things should be genuine and enjoyable. On your first day of school, your teacher and classmates should be kind. Your first time riding a subway should be exciting. And your first random sandwich should be from someone who actually wants to make you one. Like a lot of first things.

So guys, in order for you to get a delicious free sandwich, which is prepared with care and all that (and not your girlfriend’s resentment, you sexist pig!) you need:

• a girl who needs to get home
• a whiny and hungry friend
• to be able to play the role of a man
• 2 am

Escort the girl home, and you might just get a free meal.

Peter

PS: In all seriousness, I’m making this look like I don’t appreciate it and that I’m making fun of it. Well, I am trying to write a lighthearted entry for my blog, but I will say, that’s the most I ever enjoyed walking someone home.

PPS: While you’ve read this, this piece contains no innuendo and everything happened in a very respectable manner.