Recently I have been accused of attracting the criminally insane. Or at least I find the guy that is just peering over the edge of the crazy abyss and with a saccharine smile and a wave, I shove him right off the precipice. C'est la vie.
That's not entirely true. I just happen to write about the disasters. Simple Dating Rule #2 is thus: The more socially awkward the date is, the more entertained your friends are by your experience. Let's try it out and you can decide which one makes the better story.
Setting: Outside Lola's front porch. Dusk. A slightly nervous, but cute man rings the front door bell. Lola opens the door with a welcoming smile.
Man A: (sincerely) Wow, Lola you look amazing.Lola: (modestly) Thanks! Where are we off to tonight?
Man A: Well, I wasn't sure what food you liked so I made reservations at two places just in case. An Italian restaurant and an Asian fusion place that got pretty good reviews.Lola: (pleased) How very planning aheady of you!
Man A: (laughing) Don't give me too much credit. I know we talked about it over the phone and I completely forgot which one you said you liked better.Lola: (smiling along with Man A) Okay, so I'll revise the previous statement to: How very honest of you! How about Italian?
Man A: I was kinda in the mood for Italian.
(The two then exit, chatting excitedly)
Lola: (recognizing the caller) Oh Hello Man B. I'm just getting ready.Man B: (loudly) Hello...Lola...is that you? ... Lola?
Lola: (straining to hear) Yes, it's Lola. Wow, it sounds like you're in a wind tunnel.Man B: (louder) Lola???? Are you there? Awww, fuck. (hangs up)
(Lola's phone rings again.)Lola: (answering the phone) Hello?
Man B: Lola! Finally. (pause) What are you wearing?Lola: Um...what?
Man B: What are you wearing? You know for our date.Lola: (pausing awkwardly) Black Pants and a top.
Man B: (disappointingly) Oh. (another pause) Well I guess that's OK. (car horn honking) Get out of that lane you- (insert derogatory racial slur here)-! I'm running late.Lola:(taken aback) Okay, how late?
(unintelligible voices in the background and a string of curses)
Man B: (shouting) Will you be quiet?
Lola: Um... what?
Man B: (annoyed) I wasn't talking to you.
Lola: Who were you talking to, then?
Man B: (pointedly) You just get right to the heavy stuff, don't you? My son, he's in the backseat. I'm dropping him off at my mom's right now.
Lola: I'm sorry, it's just that I can hear him in the background. You never mentioned that you had a son.
Man B: I thought I would ease into that maybe on the third date. (accusatory now) Wait a minute. Are you one of those women who won't go out with a single father?
Lola: (completely and utterly disgusted) No. (severely awkward pause) But since you're running so late, why don't we just do this another time?
Man B: (sarcastically) Yeah, right.
The moral of Conversation B is to never pick up a guy at a chili eating festival. Even if he's a hot firefighter. But I digress!
Hearts and flowers are nice and everything but racism and I-forgot-to-mention-I-had-a-son-that-I-curse-in-front-of makes for a more entertaining story. Wouldn't you say?