I love when "worst date" stories come up in conversations, because I have a really good one. I wrote everything down shortly after it happened, because I knew it would make for a great story, and it's been sitting in my drafts ever since. So for the sake of sharing, and also to humor you, I present:
Katie's Worst Date. EVER.
(And no, this was not with my husband. It was one of the last guys I went out with before I met him though!)
Also, if you, Mr. Worst Date Ever, happen to for some reason be reading this (I hope you aren't, because that would be weird, I mean, we went out one time...and also, readers, so you know i'm not just some huge jerk), I think you're a good guy, and you were perfectly nice. But I'm sure everyone is someone's worst date ever, and you just happen to be mine.
So anyway... it's like 2010. August or September. Maybe October. I had just moved back from St. George in May, where I had been attending Dixie State College, and was living with my parents. I had also just broken up with the guy I had dated for what seemed like a (waste of) lifetime. I was basically learning how to be single, because I hadn't been since age 16. I was going to a single's ward and was getting set up with guys by friends and dating a lot of different guys. I was meeting some awesome people and having a really good time, but that's all it was. So here we are in August or September. Maybe October, of 2010, and for the eight-billionth time, our washer broke.
I'm not even kidding, this happened like, 2 or 3 times a year. That seems like a lot for a washer. Those things should just work. All the time. With that being said, we were getting the washer-repair equivalent of frequent flyer miles with the company we used to fix it. They were family owned and knew my mom by name.
Since I was living at home and only working part time, it was my job to stick around the house in the block of hours they said they would come to fix it. When the guy came, I was half awake, and hardly remember answering the door and showing him to the laundry room. Mid-repair, I left to go to work or something. I don't exactly remember.
When I got back from wherever I was, my mom called to me from the kitchen. She had the weirdest grin on her face and slid a piece of paper across the counter to me. It was some weird word (oops, actually that was his name. my bad) and a phone number. She said that after he had fixed the washer, she was just chatting with him (because my mom is just on those kinds of terms with the washing machine repair men. because she sees them all the time.) He asked about our family, and when my mom got to me, he mentioned that he thought I was pretty. (Let it be known that he left his number totally on his own. Not my mom's idea.)
After hearing about their conversation, I felt flattered. Then, I wished I would have paid any sort of attention to what he looked like. Then I was impressed, because it's a pretty bold move to leave your phone number with some girl's mom just because you think she's pretty. I've gotta give him some credit for that. I don't think girls ever really realize that it takes some serious guts to ask a girl out! Kudos, to all you guys. Plus, I'm not one to say no to a first date. I think that's sort of rude an insensitive unless you have a a good reason.
Next, I did what any sensible twenty-first century girl would do: I Facebook stalked him.
From what I could see (dang privacy settings!), he seemed like a decent guy. He was not really my type, but I thought what's there to lose? So I texted him. We texted for the rest of that day, and maybe into the next day? I don't remember how long it was between him leaving his number and us actually going on a date, but we texted. I remember thinking a few of the things he said were weird and it was awkward at times, but like I said, I was enjoying being single, and really, what's the worst thing that could happen? It doesn't work out and I never see or talk to him again? Cool. I can deal with that. Not a huge loss. I didn't know him anyway. It would be different if I had known him apart from the 30 seconds I took to show him to my laundry room.
A midst all our texting, he tells me that he likes math and is good at it. I took that comment as an opportunity to get some help with my homework (because seriously, I suck at math and need all the help I can possibly get). The day of the date comes and he says he will come pick me up after he gets off work, we'll go get some ice cream and then we will go to his house and he will kindly tutor me in math, and maybe watch a movie or something afterward. Sounded like a plan to me.
And so the date begins... he comes to pick me up, and he's in his little beater work truck and dirty work clothes (I supposed fixing washers is a messy job). I'm excited for ice cream. This is also right around the time that frozen yogurt shops are popping up in every vacant store space, and I'm full throttle for that 800-choices toppings bar. Next, he turns into the Wal Mart parking lot. And I'm got a pretty big prejudice against Wal Mart. I avoid it at all costs. We head to the frozen foods aisle in the grocery section and he tells me to pick out some ice cream. I thought this was sort of weird, but cheaper, I guess, so kudos, washing-machine-repair-man. I pick this giant tub of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup ice cream and he then asks "is that the only one you want? you can get more..." I looked down at this tub and back at him, thinking to myself how would i possibly eat a tub of ice cream, let alone, pick out another to eat, too? But what I actually said was "[girly laugh] no, this is plenty."
And so we drive... and drive and drive and drive. We were clearly taking the long way to his house, which was near the mouth of American Fork Canyon. Conversation was certainly not flowing, and ice cream was melting in my lap. It was already getting weird, and my mind was tugging at a hint of regretting this decision to go on a date with this random guy that fixed my mom's washer... but I wanted to be optimistic. It was good experience. And he meant well.
We eventually pull up to his house (he lived with his dad and younger brother). And he opens the garage. He leads me immediately over to one of my biggest turn-offs: a bullet bike. He begins doing that thing guys do when they start rambling off facts and stuff about this motorized toy, trying to sound impressive, and I'm not really listening, because I don't understand a word he's saying, and I honestly don't really care. He's pulling it out onto the driveway and turning it on and revving the engine really loud and in his mind, he's the shiz. Like, what could possibly be cooler than this glorified bicycle? I'm smiling and nodding and doing lots of "uh-huh" and "yeah" -ing and then he asks me exactly what I was dreading: "do you want to go for a ride?" I didn't even let him finish. I said no right away. Bullet bikes aren't meant for 2 people, at least not this one. I don't want to. It was cold and dark and I didn't want to. But I can only say "no" so many times in a row... so I give in. "Just a quick spin," he says.
Oh, the bullet bike ride... first of all: no helmets. Stupid/Dangerous. He starts driving around his neighborhood pretty casually, and it's okay and i'm handling it, but because of the way the bike is situated, and the fact that it's meant for 1 rider, i'm not necessarily sitting behind him, but more like attached to his back like a large spider monkey. And he's already said some comment along the lines of "hold on tight [boyish giggle / raising eyebrows]". In retrospect, that's probably why he did what he did next. Maybe he just wanted me to hold on tighter, because what he did next, is he... POPS A WHEELIE. No, this really happened. I have never been so terrified in my life. I'm so done with this ride at this point. I was done with this ride when he showed me the bike tucked away in the garage, and I'm about ready to bail off the side of this thing now. He then heads out onto the busy road that leads into the canyon (reminder: still no helmets). He's speeding pretty illegally and he has this look on his face like he's so sure he's earning major cool dude points with me right now, and I am holding on tighter, for fear of my life.
We finally go inside and this literally happens next: washing-machine-repair-man actually says, "i'm going to go change into something a little more comfortable..." Word. For. Word. I cannot make this stuff up, people Ooookkkkaaayyy....? At least 15 minutes go by. I'm already started on my homework, and washing-machine-repair-man comes up the stairs, head-to-toe abercrombie & fitch, REEKING of cologne. The bad kind. Remember when I said he wasn't really my type? I could not have possibly been more right.
After an awkward tour of his make-shift bedroom in the unfinished basement (note to guys on first dates: girls don't need a tour of your bedroom), we're eating ice cream, of course, and he asks "do you want to take this home, or do you want me to put it in the freezer for next time?" A little presumptuous there, aren't we, washing-machine-repair-man? Already making second date plans? I told him to just put it in the freezer, knowing full well I would never be back for that ice cream, but also, what would I do with all that ice cream if I took it home? We sit down and are mid-math problem, and his dad and brother get home from some sports game or practice or something. And they... are awesome. I was having such a good time talking with his dad and his little brother was adorable. So naturally, washing-machine-repair-man sends them away. He does the whole you're-embarrassing-me-i'm-on-a-date-leave-us-alone thing and waves them off. Bummer, dude. So we're left alone to my math homework. Well, sort of. His dad and brother are in and out of the kitchen, and I'm enjoying the fact that they are breaking up the awkwardness, and washing-machine-repair-man is getting annoyed, so we move into the office. And are totally secluded and all alone. Except for his chihuahua. And, major surprise here, turns out washing-machine-repair-man actually doesn't know one single thing about my math homework. And now that I think about it, he was probably just trying to impress me by saying he did. He helped me ZERO PERCENT. So here I am, at washing-machine-repair-man's house, with a giant bowl of ice cream, a ton of math homework, listening to some Canadian comedian who is telling a lot of really mediocre jokes. And washing-machine-repair-man is having the time of his life. And i'm just doing homework. In his house. And this is a date.
So in comes little chihuahua, who jumps up into his lap and is getting all excited and lick-y like dogs do. And he actually says, "No, Bella, stop! I don't want kisses from you! I'm hoping to get kisses from someone else tonight!" HE ACTUALLY SAID THAT. I swear i'm not kidding about this. I was in the middle of a math problem when I hear him say this. I drop my pencil, look up at him and raise my eyebrows with a straight face that very clearly says, "oh hell no" But I'm pretty sure he wasn't looking. Whatever. This date was over like 2 hours ago in my head anyway, because what kind of date is math homework? That i'm doing by myself? (Funny story - almost all of my dates with devin at the beginning of our relationship were math homework. for the same class I was doing this math homework for.)
At some point or another, I very smoothly convince him to take me home. Before we watch a movie. It was probably way too late and I was way too over this whole situation, so we take the long way home, of course. And it's still awkward. We are listening to some piano/rock music and he is loving it and I'm falling asleep because it's late and I just spend 3 hours doing math homework and I just found out that Canadians aren't funny, and if I exploded right now, I would just be Reese's ice cream. And he finally drops me off. And I don't remember if he walked me to the door, but I'm sure he did. We maybe hugged, but definitely no kiss. I made that clear. And I went back inside. And never saw him again.
We maybe texted a little bit after that, but I never saw him. A few months later, the washer broke down again. And I made sure I wasn't home that time...
And that's why you should never date your washing machine repair man.
No comments:
Post a Comment