I saw the profile of a guy that I thought was decent, so I sent him a question as a message that I knew he would answer. Of course he did, and we quickly discovered we had alot in common. He spoke technology, which happens to be my language.
He seemed set in his ways, which I thought was a good counter to my "fly by the seat of my pants" daily schedule. He was older, but had photos of his passion for mountain biking everywhere I looked. He couldn't be too bad if he could still manage to traverse the trails on a bike. He doesn't drink, and he rarely cursed. I hid the fact that cursing is my vice, and I can string together a line of obscenities that would turn your hair white. He is very intelligent, which is something I am instinctively attracted to in a monumental way. Could it be Darwin's theory at the root? Maybe.
We decided to meet at a restaurant that was halfway between our two homes. I had a 35 minute drive, which of course I spent fretting about the fact that I was going on a date. For me, dating is like getting a tooth pulled. You are forced to sit and make idle conversation with someone you may or may not find attractive, while everyone in the restaurant stares at you accusingly. At least, that is how it feels to me.
I had gotten to the exit for the restaurant, and I began to panic. I decided to text my best friend Carla, with whom I can share all things and be as vile as I need to be. Texting as fast as I could, I sent at least 10 texts with messages such as "what the h*ll was I thinking??" "I hate to date... HATE IT!!!" "I would rather have my toenails pulled off with clippers than to be going to this date." "If I EVER say I am going on a date again, remind me of this moment so that I can kick my own a$$." Needless to say, my rendition of these texts are a cleaner version than the reality of what I sent.
Suddenly, I got a response text that dinged my phone. As I looked down at the red light, I saw that it was from my date. He stated, and I quote, "Geez, you haven't even met me yet and you are already cussing." Suddenly, the air left my lungs and I turned what I could only assume as a ghostly shade of white at the realization that I had accidently texted him... not my friend Carla. The light turned green and I was less than a half mile away from the restaurant, and I could barely make my foot touch the acceleration pedal at the thought of the impending doom I was about to face. Not only had I lied about my vernacular, I had basically informed my soon to be date that I would rather be anywhere than on my way to see him.
I pulled in the parking lot and dialed my friend in a panic. Screaming and laughing in her ear, I know she thought I was insane. I received a second text from said date, stating "it is ok... you can come in.. don't be embarrassed." As I tried to exit my vehicle, and pull myself together, I knew that this was the type of punishment I deserved for being such an idiot.
He seemed set in his ways, which I thought was a good counter to my "fly by the seat of my pants" daily schedule. He was older, but had photos of his passion for mountain biking everywhere I looked. He couldn't be too bad if he could still manage to traverse the trails on a bike. He doesn't drink, and he rarely cursed. I hid the fact that cursing is my vice, and I can string together a line of obscenities that would turn your hair white. He is very intelligent, which is something I am instinctively attracted to in a monumental way. Could it be Darwin's theory at the root? Maybe.
We decided to meet at a restaurant that was halfway between our two homes. I had a 35 minute drive, which of course I spent fretting about the fact that I was going on a date. For me, dating is like getting a tooth pulled. You are forced to sit and make idle conversation with someone you may or may not find attractive, while everyone in the restaurant stares at you accusingly. At least, that is how it feels to me.
I had gotten to the exit for the restaurant, and I began to panic. I decided to text my best friend Carla, with whom I can share all things and be as vile as I need to be. Texting as fast as I could, I sent at least 10 texts with messages such as "what the h*ll was I thinking??" "I hate to date... HATE IT!!!" "I would rather have my toenails pulled off with clippers than to be going to this date." "If I EVER say I am going on a date again, remind me of this moment so that I can kick my own a$$." Needless to say, my rendition of these texts are a cleaner version than the reality of what I sent.
Suddenly, I got a response text that dinged my phone. As I looked down at the red light, I saw that it was from my date. He stated, and I quote, "Geez, you haven't even met me yet and you are already cussing." Suddenly, the air left my lungs and I turned what I could only assume as a ghostly shade of white at the realization that I had accidently texted him... not my friend Carla. The light turned green and I was less than a half mile away from the restaurant, and I could barely make my foot touch the acceleration pedal at the thought of the impending doom I was about to face. Not only had I lied about my vernacular, I had basically informed my soon to be date that I would rather be anywhere than on my way to see him.
I pulled in the parking lot and dialed my friend in a panic. Screaming and laughing in her ear, I know she thought I was insane. I received a second text from said date, stating "it is ok... you can come in.. don't be embarrassed." As I tried to exit my vehicle, and pull myself together, I knew that this was the type of punishment I deserved for being such an idiot.
No comments:
Post a Comment