But Wait, There's More
I'm sure you assumed that I was finished with my tale of misery and woe when I concluded the last post. Oh, how I wish that were true. You see, you can't just walk away from an incident like that.
I left off with the deletion of a certain picture which could have launched me to internet stardom. However, we had an entire forty minute car ride through those mountain roads to endure. Don't freak out, there wasn't a repeat of "the incident" as it's come to be known.
We got into the car, my date continually telling me that it was no big deal, and that it happened to everyone, and all kinds of other lies. We got into the car and I asked if anyone had gum in the most subtle way I could muster. Everyone grimaced a bit, but luckily I was given something minty. I foolishly thought that I might be able to recover by having a witty conversation. The boy driving had something else in mind. Apparently, how he deals with awkward situations is by listening to a Jerry Seinfeld standup routine on CD. Yeah, instead of being able to talk and prove that I was a normal person instead of a vomit machine, I had to sit in silence in the backseat as we pondered the important life question, "What's up with that!?"
When we reached my apartment, my date realized that his roommates probably hadn't gotten home yet and he hadn't brought his keys. He asked me if he could hang out in my apartment for a bit. I said yes, but I wondered what I was supposed to do in this situation. I wanted to shower. Immediately. I wanted to brush my teeth and wash my hair and sleep until I was dead, but this was no longer a viable option. We walked into my apartment and were greeted by the impromptu party that my roommates had thrown. The entire living room was filled with people from church and the only place that we could sit was between the couch and the wall by the door, completely segregated from anyone else.
I was on the verge of passing out at this point, so I wasn't coming up with anything genius to say to break the ice here. A stand-up comedian who was popular when I was in elementary school stole all of my precious I-just-threw-up-and-therefore-feel-completely-healed time and now I mostly felt like dying. We sat in silence for a few minutes until Elaine walked by and gave me innuendo eyebrows. You know the ones.
I shook my head and motioned for her to follow me to my room, where I regaled her with my tale. Horrified and possibly scarred for life, she rejoined the party and I followed her to find my date talking to his roommate, who had just arrived. He stood up and told me that it was getting late and that he should probably head home. I wondered for a split second if we were even going to attempt a doorstep scene. But by the time I had figured out how I was going to diffuse the tension with witty banter, I heard the door closing and two sets of footsteps fleeing for safety.
Everyone in the party turned to stare at me. One of the boys piped up, "Weren't you two on a date? Why didn't he hug you!?" I shrugged and retreated to my room where I curled into a ball and made the noble decision to become a hermit. As Kenny kindly informed me when I told him my story the next Monday, "There's no coming back from that."
I left off with the deletion of a certain picture which could have launched me to internet stardom. However, we had an entire forty minute car ride through those mountain roads to endure. Don't freak out, there wasn't a repeat of "the incident" as it's come to be known.
We got into the car, my date continually telling me that it was no big deal, and that it happened to everyone, and all kinds of other lies. We got into the car and I asked if anyone had gum in the most subtle way I could muster. Everyone grimaced a bit, but luckily I was given something minty. I foolishly thought that I might be able to recover by having a witty conversation. The boy driving had something else in mind. Apparently, how he deals with awkward situations is by listening to a Jerry Seinfeld standup routine on CD. Yeah, instead of being able to talk and prove that I was a normal person instead of a vomit machine, I had to sit in silence in the backseat as we pondered the important life question, "What's up with that!?"
When we reached my apartment, my date realized that his roommates probably hadn't gotten home yet and he hadn't brought his keys. He asked me if he could hang out in my apartment for a bit. I said yes, but I wondered what I was supposed to do in this situation. I wanted to shower. Immediately. I wanted to brush my teeth and wash my hair and sleep until I was dead, but this was no longer a viable option. We walked into my apartment and were greeted by the impromptu party that my roommates had thrown. The entire living room was filled with people from church and the only place that we could sit was between the couch and the wall by the door, completely segregated from anyone else.
I was on the verge of passing out at this point, so I wasn't coming up with anything genius to say to break the ice here. A stand-up comedian who was popular when I was in elementary school stole all of my precious I-just-threw-up-and-therefore-feel-completely-healed time and now I mostly felt like dying. We sat in silence for a few minutes until Elaine walked by and gave me innuendo eyebrows. You know the ones.
I shook my head and motioned for her to follow me to my room, where I regaled her with my tale. Horrified and possibly scarred for life, she rejoined the party and I followed her to find my date talking to his roommate, who had just arrived. He stood up and told me that it was getting late and that he should probably head home. I wondered for a split second if we were even going to attempt a doorstep scene. But by the time I had figured out how I was going to diffuse the tension with witty banter, I heard the door closing and two sets of footsteps fleeing for safety.
Everyone in the party turned to stare at me. One of the boys piped up, "Weren't you two on a date? Why didn't he hug you!?" I shrugged and retreated to my room where I curled into a ball and made the noble decision to become a hermit. As Kenny kindly informed me when I told him my story the next Monday, "There's no coming back from that."
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