Sunday, January 10, 2010

Internal Monologue: The Date

-In car:
Okay. Here she is. Don’t mess this up. Do I look all right? She does. She’s too good looking. This will never work. Don’t smile. You’ve got a weird smile. Great. You smiled. It’s already going downhill and she’s only just got in the car. Is my breath all right? Gum. Don’t let her see you put the gum in your mouth. She’ll ask for a piece.
Damn, this meal is going to be pricey. Why would I choose this place? I should’ve taken her to Chipotle. That burrito earlier was amazing. Burrito. Great job. Now you’re a ticking time bomb.
-Seated at table:
Oh, the small talk. Here we go. Be open. But not too open. Be mysterious. Why is mysterious so attractive to women? You always hear people say, "Oh, he's like an open book" and they mean it in a good way. Great, here's the waiter. Is he small talking? Jesus, he's actually small talking! Is that a pencil moustache? Man, I had no idea those were still around. The pencil moustache is like the snow leopard of facial hair; beautiful, majestic, and breathtaking but rarely sighted. "Just saw a pencil moustache." Text that to Joe later. Drink order: Iced tea. Good. Iced tea drinkers are good people.
What's the opposite of iced tea? Whatever it is, I'm sure Mussolini drank it.
"I have to admit, the pencil moustache on the waiter has only made tonight that much better." Good, she laughed. That could've gone horribly wrong. This is going better than expected.
What will she order? She looks like a chicken eater. “I’ll have the sirloin.” The sirloin. The sirloin? That’s $35. There’s no way she’s going to finish that, she’s tiny. And she knows she won’t finish it. She’s testing me. Well test away. This deserves a make out session...without shirts at the very least. Not to mention Avatar in 3D. That’s an additional $30. God, this is the most expensive date ever. Biggest dumbass ever? Right here. Right here.
-After movie:

God those 3D glasses were freaking massive. It's a good thing the theater was dark, those things would make anyone look like Kim Jong Il.
Invited to her house. Do the blanket thing. Or the massage thing.
Just remember: Sirloin steak.
-In room:
Room--good. Bed--better. Opt for massage. When she’s on your back massaging you spin around, look her in the eyes, and go for it. Don't squint. You always squint. Don't you dare fucking squint.
-5 Minutes later:
1. 2. 3…Spin! Oh Christ. I need to cough. The burrito…she's sitting on my stomach. That butt is practically pushing it out. With the cough comes the fart. It's inevitable. This is the combination from hell. Hold it. Hold it!
SHIT! Did she hear it? Maybe the cough covered it? Will it smell? Chipotle. Yes, yes it will invariably smell awful. Bail. Just go. Open your mouth and say it…say it!
“I’ve uh, I’ve gotta go.”
-In car:
“$35 sirloin. For nothing. I should have farted in her mouth.”
“$35 sirloin…he could’ve farted in my mouth.”