Okay, that out of the way, I have a date Wednesday. I probably should back up shouldn't I? Okay, I'll start again...
April 6th 1983: Lightning struck the open mouth of hell and I arrived on this planet. What, too far? Fine, let's fast forward to this past Tuesday.
Tuesday is schedule day at the movie house. It is a day I approach with a joint feeling of optimism and apprehension. The fate of the weekend rests on this moment. The bossman and I have had a silent agreement for ages. I close Friday nights and have Saturday night off. Frankly, only one weekend night off keeps me honest. This schedule was different, in a most sinister way. I was closing BOTH Friday and Saturday. The truce has been broken! Ready the soldiers! WE MARCH AT DAWN!!!
Needless to say I was a touch miffed by this. Among the great many reasons why, it would give me no chance to further my Summer of Love endeavor---By that, I likely mean go to Paddy's, get discouraged, and drink a boot full of whiskey. Hey, my weekend is my weekend!
So I trudged through my two weekend killing shifts, armed with nothing but my hair trigger temper. Then, something weird happened. Around 4AM, I was woken up by the familiar sound of my Droid's battle cry.
"Okay, who's drunk/in jail?"
It was nothing like that. It was a message from someone on the dating site. It was funny, well written, and far more complimentary than I deserve. One problem, there was no photo... Why wouldn't someone have a photo? She must look like Gargamel. Oh no, am I that shallow? I mean, this was a really nice message. I should at least talk to whoever wrot...
Oh wait, never mind everybody! I didn't "enable links and pics" on my Gmail. Sorry, there's a pic here. Give me a break, it was 4AM. She doesn't look like Gargamel...
 |
| Thank God |
Paddy's? (No.)
A Strip Club? (No, of course not jackass)
FuddRuckers? (You're not even trying, and I'm not telling)
Basically, the list of places I feel comfortable going to in slippers just decreased by one.
I've found the trickiest part of talking to someone on a dating site, is making the transition from online conversation to actual date. It's pretty much an "All in" move. Move to quickly, she assumes you're a murderer. Wait too long, she loses interest and likely ends up with Meatball the Lunkhead (my favorite Christmas Carol btw). Within the span of a day, I pushed in my chips...
...and I have a date on Wednesday.
By no means is it time to hang the Mission Accomplished banner. In fact, we're not even at the point where you should be looking up banner stores. Though it's a step in the right direction. Hey can you guys help me with something? I can't decide which shirt to make my date shirt. Have a look and feel free to share your thoughts on which one you like best...
Nice little suspenseful cliffhanger we have here, eh? Before you get Chapter 4, there will a special thing on Friday AND my brand new POP TART over at Eat Your Serial on Sunday!!!! I'll warn you, it's about TV dads and Danny Tanner is involved. Neat huh? As always feel free to share this or any MvW with your Facebook friends and Twitter folk. Thanks!
Minch
My mom told me on my way to work that a new installment was up and I seriously couldn't wait to get home to read it. I am probably more excited about this date than you. My advice is, don't wear earrings. My husband wore them on our first date and it made him look like a loser.
ReplyDeleteI'm really happy you like this whole mini series thing. I appreciate the support. Here's the thing, I thought for sure either you or your mom would scold me over my selection of "Date Shirts." There is no concern over me wearing earrings, as it is a movie house commandment that guys can't have them. Crazy, right? Any who, wish me luck!
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