My dear friend over at The Lazy K told me once that she had...the perfect...guy for me. One of my closest friends in the entire world says she's found my sole mate. Count. Me. In.
Fast forward a few weeks. I'm primping like the world's going end tomorrow and St Peter judges on looks. I may or may not have had 1 or 2 doses of liquid courage and I am ready to go.
The door bell rings.
(side note: that summer, I lived in the projects...literally...so anytime the doorbell rang we didn't know if we should hide, call the cops, or get the gun)
I sneak to the door, just in case it's a kid asking for money and peak through the peephole. My heart sinks. He is not the gorgeous sandy blonde that had been described.
Quickly I curse myself for giving him such descriptive directions to my house and run through a couple options. Could I say he had the wrong house? Could I tell him I am my roommate and that I'm not home?
No, my best friend in the entire universe had set me up for this, so I had to go.
We drive down Texas Ave. To this point there has been only the basic small talk...what's your major, etc. Then he drops the bombshell.
"Oh, that is so my favorite store" I look out the window. We are passing a World Market, James Avery and Panda Express. Maybe he just loves Chinese food?
Then, "no I love that one even more". By now we were in front of Bed Bath and Beyond.
"My bedroom is Hawaiian. I even have a grass bed skirt." Oh dear God. I contemplate jumping out of the car.
I don't really remember anything else from that night. We saw "The Village." At the end, I thought please God, where is my dang hedge to go hide behind right now???
I try to learn a lesson from each guy I date. From this Hawaiian Tropic: Grass skirts do not always help you get leid.
I once locked my keys in my car (while it was still running) on a first date. Very smooth...
ReplyDelete