Monday, July 31, 2006

Do NOT make fun of your date's anatomy

Ok. I admit it. I'm no Pamela Anderson. Hell, I wouldn't even be mistaken for her second cousin. But don't remind me. Especially when you're trying to impress me.

Let me start off by giving you some background on my date: Chronologically, he was older than me by about five years. Maturity-wise, he was younger by about ten (I mean really...no one's made fun of my chest size since eighth grade! And yes Keith, that is why I still won't go out with you).

Anyway, the date doesn't start off too badly. But after a couple drinks, his annoying habit of saying something stupid and following with a "Just kiddin" becomes like a chapter out of a Tourette's Syndrome handbook. It sounded somewhat like this: "You've got food in your teeth...Just kiddin!" and "That guy's staring at your ass...Just kiddin!"

Well, for some reason, after about the third drink (Can you believe I was still there?), my date asks me if he can see my driver's license (Ladies, bad idea, I know. Only stalkers and morons ask to see your license. I got lucky with a moron). A buzz making me think nothing of it, I hand over the license. He takes a long look at it, looks up at me, looks at the license, and up at me again. At which point he asks,

"Oh my God! Did you have a breast reduction? Just Kiddin!"

With as much grace as I could muster, I picked my jaw up off the floor, chugged my beer, and replied,

"You know, I'd really love to go out with you again...Just kiddin!"

Monday, July 24, 2006

Assume your date is NOT a Lesbian


Let me just get right in to this one...

So we're sitting at the bar on our second date, having a fairly good time. I've got a couple of drinks in me, so I'm very much giving him the benefit of the doubt. That is, until the following takes place...

I'm answering some question he'd asked, when, behind us, he hears a girl (in her own conversation) exclaiming, "I can't believe she's getting married because she and I used to make out all the time!"

Well, at that tantilizing visual, my charming date interrupts me to turn and ask the stranger,

"Was she cute?"

After the girl gives him a mind-your-f'ing-business look, he turns back to me with another, more pressing question.

"Have you ever been with a girl?"

"Uh, no."

"Never? Not even in college?"

"No. It was college. Not porn school. Check please."