Male Perspective: In a Pickle

Have you seen the Sandlot where the guy is in a pickle? Well I’ve been in a pickle. Somehow I went to watch movies with a couple of girls in the singles ward. I didn’t know them, I was just looking for something to do.

(Oh man I hate this story . . . but had it not happened perhaps my wife wouldn’t have become jealous and realized she had feelings for me.)

Somehow I was falling asleep, I was only half there when I ended up hand in hand with one of the girls. The whole time I am thinking what on earth is happening here? I told my best friend and my mom that I was in a pickle . . . this girl is making serious moves for me and I didn’t want any of it, but I figured if I was in the same situation I would want someone to give me a chance. What was a date and what wasn’t didn’t really make sense here.

At one point she informed me she had a child living with his dad. I still gave her the benefit of the doubt and was okay with the news. The next time I asked her for the story of where her child came from, and she said, 'Don’t worry, I was drunk at the time . . . '

RED FLAG! Ah, crap, do you see where this is going?

Next time she says, 'Yeah, I have a tattoo, too, is that going to bother you?' Well not as much as getting drunk resulting in a child.

The final straw: 'My divorce will be final in a week or two.' Well, that is flat out deceit . . . it was over after that. I thought breaking up would be hard, but after all this, it was a piece of cake!

Male Perspective: She-wolf

Then there’s she-wolf (sorry I was trying to come up with a nice name, but this is what she was).

I was trying to get a group of people together to go to the movies. I was not asking for a date, I was just trying to make friends and give me something to do on a Friday night. So the next time I went to FHE I was trying to get people to hangout . . . clearly not a date, nope not a date, can I make myself clearer, I don’t want to go on a date I want friends!

So I asked a bunch of people if they wanted to get together and watch movies/play games, etc. Somehow, by the end of FHE, I was expected to pick up she-wolf at a certain time for a date to the movies. I was doing my best to Abort! Abort! Abort! and I am sitting there thinking how does a sweet guy like me end up in a situation like this? I didn’t ask her in any way shape or form.

I think she asked herself.

I definitely did not ever say 'would you like to go to the movies with me?' --but somehow it ended up as if I did. Usually I look forward to dates, but this one I dreaded all week.

After the movie, I wanted to drop her off, but she said, “It’s only 10 o’clock we still have some time, how about we go to Denny’s?” Ah crap, how am I supposed to keep this conversation going? I enjoyed the movie--I didn’t have to talk to her then.

Luckily, this girl did all of the talking, I just had to sit and nod once in awhile. So we had hot chocolate, then I drove her home, and as I dropped her off she proceeded to recite me a report card for the night. “I think we have some good chemistry, we had good conversations. I had fun we should do this again!” And here I am thinking, Heck NO! The whole time I inch closer and closer to my car.

Bad Date Tip of the Week

We've already seen a lot of bad date plans on this blog, and it seems that any activity is good for a first date these days (a cousin's temple wedding, work, the ATM). And I feel like every time I turn around someone is suggesting that some random event would 'make a great date'--firesides, guest lectures at school, community fundraisers, etc.

So I've thought of a few good bad date activities myself:

• The dentist: what's more romantic than a teeth cleaning? You could bring your date along as a spectator to your own oral hygeine experience, or (even better) set up joint appointments.
• A job interview: dates and interviews are basically the same thing anyway, so why not combine all the most nervousy experiences of life into one great trainwreck of an afternoon?
• The pharmacy: (to pick up your prescriptions). It's never too early to share medical histories.
  
• A funeral: seriously, try it, and let me know how it goes.
• A blood drive: if I had brought a date with me to give blood last week, we would have learned very important information about each other. He would have learned how I respond to highly stressful situations; and I would have learned how he responds to people hyperventilating.

Male Perspective: Hazards of Dating at BYU

One time I happened to have concert tickets so I asked a girl out. As we were walking up to the theater she said, “People don’t ask me out much because I’m just waiting for my boyfriend to get back from his mission.”

Yeah, that date went over well. Really she could’ve told me that on the phone and I could’ve saved $10. It was dates like these that I realized the truest definition of dating is spending money on someone else’s future wife.

(By the way, this sort of thing happened to me a few more times. Ahhh, the joys of dating at BYU . . .)

Male Perspective: Another Bad Date Plan

One time I asked a girl out to go swing dancing. I knew she liked swing dancing, she went every week. There was a live band and a big dance floor, only problem was I didn’t know how to swing dance. Sometimes you have to look back at these things and laugh.

Male Perspective: Bad Plans and the Dangers of Texting

One time I wanted to take a girl to something more classy than a movie—I got a list of plays in the area and found one I had never heard of, but some reviews said it was funny. Big mistake.

We walked out after the first act. The F bomb was dropped throughout. And it was less funny than a Woody Allen film.

Strike 2-we went to the pier to get milkshakes at Ruby’s. After putting coins in the meter, we walked to the end of the pier only to find out Ruby’s was closed. So we headed to In-N-Out for milkshakes.

Our second date I asked her out via text message. She responded, but I didn’t get the message until 2 weeks later. I sent another text message asking her if she wanted to go out. She responded, “Sorry I’m seeing someone now.” And that was the end of that.

Male Perspective: Cooking New Stuff

So I thought I would give a different perspective on the whole bad date thing—being a dude, I’ve been the cause of most of the bad dates I’ve been on. But certainly not all of them!

So one time I decided we would make tacos for dinner. I don’t remember what we did afterwards—I just remember the tacos being a fiasco. Never attempt to make something you haven’t made before. We tried to make tortillas from scratch, and they ended up looking and tasting like a giant saltine cracker. My poor date was courteous and ate a bit, but I sure didn’t score too many points there.

A Note from Our Sponsor and Boys Do Lame Stuff

This week I had a few issues pulling me away from the blogging world, mainly graduate school (do I really need more reasons?); new confusing software (I attempted to follow an online tutorial--big mistake); and donating blood (trauma of my life--pics posted below).

It has been mentioned that the tag 'boys do lame stuff' shows up on a lot of posts, and I have explained that this is mainly because most of the story submitters are girls. But next week, and part of the following week, there will be a special series of posts all sent in by boys. (Well, actually, all the stories so far are from just one boy, but I may twist the arms of a few others to get some more good posts.)

Anyway, don't forget to check out next week's series of bad date stories from the ever-entertaining male perspective. And though the 'boys do lame stuff' tag does apply in several places, I have refrained from using it.


So here are pictures of my arm after some serious blood donation trauma. It looks worse in person. The really dark spot is the lovely color of grape juice--and just so you know, I do not bruise easily. Thanks, Red Cross!

I donated on Tuesday, and the picture on the left is from Thursday.





The picture on the right is from Friday--still pretty sad.

This was my first and last time giving blood.

True Story

So all the posts from this week have been from tales from my own life. And the best part is . . .

they are all part of the same bad date.

The biology major studying fungi who liked linux asked me out via email and dropped me off in front of my house.

Good good times.

How to Win Friends--or Dates: part 2

After the chicken delivery incident, I gave up the "how to win friends" tactics and returned to my own natural, awkward conversation skills . . . until about a year and a half later.

I was at institute and decided to be a nice person and talk to a boy I had been vaguely acquainted with in high school. I didn't actually 'know' him in high school, but we had been in a class or two together. So, anyway, I decided to practice my conversational question asking skills again, and it was chicken delivery all over again.

I started with, "What's your major?"

"Biology." I majored in English. Biology was actually the very last class I took as an undergraduate. But I guess it could be interesting . . . animals, plants, people, they're all interesting . . .

We continued on to discussion of jobs, and it turned out he worked in a biology lab.

"So," I followed up, "what exactly do you study at the lab?"

"Fungus."

Well, I impressed him with my ability to use the correct plural form, 'fungi,' and found out something about world about stopping world hunger, but really, fungi.

A few weeks later we were on a date.

Our ride-to-the-concert conversation was okay. I found out he knew a south east Asian language and wanted to hear all about it. But on the ride home, I searched for a new topic. None of my questions sparked a good conversation, and all I got were brief responses.

Finally, I asked, "So what do you like to do?"

"Biology."

"No, I mean what do you like to outside of school."

"I study fungi."

"So when you're not doing school, or studying the fungus, or doing anything else related to science, what do you do? Like in your spare time?"

I was expecting him to talk about sports or music or books. Even if it were geeky sci-fi books or some weird Star Trek obsession, I could deal with it. His response, "I like Linux."

Long pause from me.

"Oh, what's Linux?"

"It's an operating system."

"Huh."

Another long pause. I recovered from my dismay and asked, "What do you do with Linux?"

"Well, I like to write code and figure different stuff out with it."

Shoot me now.

And that was the end of our conversation. Pretty much for the rest of the ride home.

The end. The end of us being friends or going on dates. And the end of me trying to win friends and influence people.

How to Win Friends--or Dates: part 1

This is the preface to the date. This is a series of events that happened before I even met the boy, but which play an important role in understanding the events of the date. So.

When I was living in the Philippines (as a missionary), my brother read "How to Win Friends and Influence People." He wrote to me about what a great book it was, etc etc and gave me a few suggestions. He said that the key to making people like you is to make them think you're interested in them, and the best way to show interest is to ask people lots of questions about themselves. Then my brother told me that the next time I go to dinner at a Filipino home, I should talk to the father about his work and the mother about her cooking; if they didn't have much to say at first, I should just keep asking questions until they started talking more. He assured me that everyone has something interesting to say.

This sounded like pretty good advice, especially since I'm not a very good conversationalist. And it just so happened that we had been invited to dinner that week by a family I didn't know well.

When we got to the family's home for dinner, I decided to try my brother's suggestions and asked the father what he did for work. I expected him to be a farmer or a taxi driver like everyone else I knew and figured I could discuss those occupations at length. But he was not a farmer or a taxi driver. He delivered chickens.

"You deliver chickens?" I said.

"Yes. I deliver chickens?"

"What do mean, you 'deliver chickens'?" I asked.

"I deliver chickens."

I searched and struggled to find a follow-up question to his response, but this was totally out of my league of question-asking skills.

"Are they live chickens? Or dead?"

"Dead."

"Are they fresh? Or frozen?"

"Frozen. Why are you asking these questions?"

"I just want to get to know you better. So do people pre-order these chickens, or do you sell the chickens door-to-door?" I asked. I kept hoping he would start really talking at some point instead of just answering the questions and being done.

"I just sell them to whoever wants them." He didn't continue on.

So I tried an open-ended prompt. "So on a typical day, what do you do?"

"I sell chickens." (So frustrating.)

"But I mean, tell me about your day, start to finish. What the steps and procedures for selling the chickens."

"I sell chickens. What more can I tell you about it?"

I kind of wanted to die. Worst possible scenario for trying out this "How to Win Friends" business, but eventually I convinced the father to tell me all about his day and about chickens and a bunch of other stuff. After dinner, I decided to talk to the mother--she couldn't possibly be as frustrating. Besides, I love cooking and the dinner had been delicious, so I was happy to discuss it with her.

I went to the kitchen where she was cleaning up, "That arroz caldo was delicious. It really was the best arroz caldo I've had. How did you make it?" My compliments were sincere: it really was the best arroz caldo (sort of a soupy casserole with rice and chicken) I'd ever eaten.

Unlike the father, she was eager to talk, "Well, I start by browning the chicken like this." She showed me the pan and the chicken and made some cooking gestures. Then she showed me seasonings and few other tricks.

"But the key to good arroz caldo," she told me, "is liver."

Wait--what? I hate liver. Liver is pretty much the only weird food I didn't learn to love in the Philippines. The smell, the texture, the taste. Liver is disgusting. I mean, the liver is part of the digestive system. It detoxifies the body. How can you possibly want to eat the part of the body that takes in the all the sludgy stuff that isn't good for the body? Sick.

The mother continued on about the liver. And on and on and on. She showed me how much liver she had used and how she had cooked it and told me again how delicious liver is and how it's like the star of the arroz caldo. I wanted to die then even more than when I was trying to get her husband to tell me about delivering chickens. I cursed my brother for giving me advice. I cursed myself for following his advice. I could have spent the evening commenting on the weather. And I cursed what's-his-name for writing a stupid book about winning friends (who needs friends) and influencing people (so overrated).

Despite my inadequacies (and the whole ridiculousness of the situation), it worked. The whole asking questions to show you're interested in people thing worked: they invited us to come for Christmas.

A Date without a Doorstep Scene

Tales from the life of the Keeper of the Blog

One night, at the end of a date, a boy dropped me off at my house.

And when I say 'dropped off,' I mean he stopped the car and just waited for me to get out. It was like we hadn't even been on a date, like we just happened to be going to the same concert that night and decided to carpool.

I have never been a fan of the doorstep scene, but can I tell you, the 'drop off' is worse. True, you avoid all decisions about whether or not to engage in super awkward post-date physical contact, and you skip the painfully long 'I had a great time' conversation, but walking yourself to the door after a date is just lame--I mean, if you're a girl--I guess guys do it all the time.

At first, I wasn't sure what was going on. He stopped the car in front of my house (not in the completely empty driveway?) and just sat there. So I sat there. I said a few "thank you's" (which I actually did mean because the concert we went to was completely awesome) and then sort of waited. He didn't move. So I put my hand on the door handle. He didn't move. I opened the door part way. He didn't move. I opened the door the rest of the way. I looked at him, waiting for him to say something, do something. He did nothing. I set one foot out the door. Still nothing. I got all the way out of the car. He was a statue.

"Well, goodnight," I said.

"Goodnight."

I shut the car door and walked across my lawn. It was dark outside, and I generally avoid going out by myself in the dark--it totally creeps me out--but apparently a date is no guarantee that you will be safely escorted to your front door. So I got to my porch, pulled out my keys, unlocked my door, and walked inside, still a little stunned. I looked back, and he was already gone.

Email? Seriously?

Tales from the life of the Keeper of the Blog

One day, a boy asked me out via email.

He had my phone number--I had given it to him for non-dating, social purposes. And we saw each other every week at institute--except he didn't show up the week he asked me out.

We were both in our early/mid twenties, not new to the dating scene.

So I gasped in shock--and I mean a gasped audibly and sort jumped away from my desk--when I opened up my email at work on a Friday morning and found an invitation from this boy to go to a thing on the following Saturday (like 8 days later). It took me until Tuesday to recover enough to respond.

Do I even need to tell you that the date did not go very well?

What Happened?!

For those of you who are wondering why there were no new posts on Wednesday and Thursday of this week, and why there is no bad date tip of the week today, let me explain:

I am in graduate school.

Next week, I have a whole set of excellent dating adventures from my own life lined up for your enjoyment.

The end.

Creepy Weird Clueless: Part 2

Friday evening came. I was in my apartment alone and contemplating not answering the door, and leaving my phone on the kitchen table, in view from the front window, and not answering that either while hiding in my room. But I was too nice, and answered the door.

We got in his car and he informed me that he needed to stop at the bank inside Albertsons to make a withdrawal. He parked in the Albertsons parking lot and went in, I stayed in the car - contemplating if I should get out of the car and run like mad. But again, I was too nice to ditch out and I stayed.

Next we went to his apartment and made a cake for the group date, but he didn't have any frosting, so it was plain cake in a metal pan. Actually he made the cake, while I sat in the living room watching TV with his roomate. After that we got in his car and drove to his work. He worked for some medical transportation company, they would drive old people from their home to the hospital and back. He told me that he needed to pick up a patient and take her home. He got the keys to the big work van and we got in. We drove to the hospital where we waited for half an hour for the old lady to finish dialysis. When she was done, he wheeled her out to the van and loaded and buckled her in. He introduced us, slightly awkward. We drove to her house and I sat in the van as he unloaded her and took her in. We drove back to his work to switch back to his car.

Now the date actually begins. We drove to Devin's house, the guy who put together the group date. We brought the cake in, and everyone thought it was so weird and they just put it aside. We ate pizza and played card games, after which we went downstairs to watch a Halloween movie. As soon as the lights went out he was all over me; trying to cuddle with me, laying on my lap, sitting so uncomfortably close. I painstakingly waited for the movie to finish. When we were leaving he noticed no one ate the cake so he cut half of out and left it for everyone to eat later. We got in the car and he proceeded to drive me home.

We get to my apartment, he opens my car door, I step out and he tells me to bring up the cake so we can eat some. We get into my apartment, none of my roommates are home. Steve and I sat at the table talking for a long time. I really wanted him to leave so I stopped talking as much, giving as short as possible answers hoping he would get the hint. Nope. One of my roommates finally came home, but went straight to her room and closed the door. Thanks for the privacy. I stood up and walked towards the door, Steven followed, but then stopped to continue blabbing.

After a while of that I finally opened the door and went outside, he sat on the steps and continued to talk my ear off, forever. Like he was stalling cause he probably wanted to kiss me or something. Sick. Finally I just told him that I had to get up really early the next morning (which was a complete lie). So he hugged me and left.

A few days later he called and invited me to do something, to which I declined and told him I was too busy (complete lie, I learned my lesson the hard way). The next few days he continued to call, all of which I ignored and did not answer. After a few weeks he quit calling. Fast forward to New Years Eve. I was out shopping with my roommate, and guess who calls, Steve. Of course I did not answer. He left a message asking what I was doing and wishing me a Happy New Year. Whatever, he wanted a New Years kiss and he wasn't getting one.

A while later I was talking with Carrie (who knew the whole date story and phone calls). She told me that Steve had talked to Doug saying, "I totally don't understand why she's not answering, I thought our first date went so well". Doug then informed him of his wrongs. Hopfully Steve has learned his lesson.

Creepy Weird Clueless: Part 1

My freshman year of college I lived in an apartment south of campus. I had a couple of friends that still lived at home; they attended their stake singles institute. I had gone with them a few times during the summer and enjoyed it. October came around and the stake institute was having a Halloween party up the canyon in a huge cabin, combined with a few other stake singles institutes. My friends Carrie and Ellen invited me to come along. So we all went up to the cabin for the party, me, Carrie, Ellen, Doug (Carrie's brother), and Doug's girl friend Hannah. We were all having fun and enjoying ourselves. It was a really big cabin so sometimes we were split up. At one point I was separated from my friends for a little while.

When I met up with Carrie and Ellen again, this new guy Steve was with them. He seemed really (really really) friendly. I assumed he was a friend of Carrie, or Carrie's older brother, otherwise I probably wouldn't have talked to him. By the end of the night Steve got my number. Party ended, I went home. I found out that Carrie didn't know him, but he was kind of friends with Doug. A week or two later I got a phone call, it was Steve. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: "Hello?

Steve: "Hey it's me Steve, how are you?"

Me: "Good, how are you doing?"

St: "Oh I'm great. Hey I was wondering, are you doing anything Friday? My friend is setting up a group date and I'd like to take you."

Me: "Nope not doing anything on Friday, that sounds fun, I'll go."

St: "Oh great! I'm so relieved, you're like the sixth girl I've asked"

Me: "....heh..."

I should've told him right then that I remembered that I really did have something on Friday (when in actuality I didn't) just so I could have gotten out of the date that was reeking of potential awesome badness.

Bad Date Tip of the Week

One of the dates earlier this week brought up the interesting (and sometimes necessary) idea of date escape. In her story, she used a phone conversation with her mother to get taken home early. This is certainly a good option.

Another effective way to escape a bad date is to get sick. Seriously. Headaches and colds are pretty good, but nothing will get you dropped off faster than threatening to throw up in some guy's car.

Comment

The time spent on (bad) dates should be measured like dog years--

because sometimes 3 hours feels more like 21.

If people took this measurement into account when planning a date, dates would be a lot shorter, and probably more enjoyable.

Escape the Date

My junior year of high school I had two really good guy friends, Norm and Darren; they were each other's best friend. One day as I was walking down the hall to my next class I ran into Darren. He asked how I was doing. I responded that I was alright, my birthday was the past weekend and had not been too exciting. Darren said, "Oh, man, I'm sorry! We should all go out to eat or something!" I thought he meant the three of us, Norm, Darren and myself.

That Friday the door bell rang, I answered and it was Darren--I then realized it was a date.

Norm was waiting in the truck with his date. Don't get me wrong, I loved these guys like brothers, they were fun and awesome, but I was not attracted to either of them whatsoever, especially Darren. So we went out to eat at some Asian restaurant, and I wasn't as comfortable as I usually was when hanging out with the guys.

We then went to our high school for the basketball game. Both Darren and Norm were in the band and were actually supposed to be playing in the pep band that night, but they skipped out so they could take us girls on a date. Well, the band director spotted them and made them join the pep band and play. So I sat with Norm's date, Sarah, whom I did not know--she went to our school but we didn't know each other. It was really crowded and noisy at the game, Sarah and I didn't really talk. Sarah saw some friends sitting a little ways away and told me she would be right back. So I sat alone, for most of the game.

Part way through the game my good friend Mandy called. I ran out of the gym into the hall to talk on my cell. She was at our friend Leslie's house, and they were going to have a sleep over and then go to our team practice the next morning together. She invited me join, but I told her of my predicament. Then I had a wonderful idea. I told Mandy that as soon as the game ended I would call her, then she was to wait a few minutes then call me back pretending to be my mom, telling me to come home.

The game ended, I called Mandy and let her know that Operation Bail Out was in effect. Norm and Darren came and got me and Sarah, and we left the school and started to walk down the parking lot to the truck. As we were approaching the truck my mom called. Not Mandy. My real mother.

I can't really remember why she called, maybe to ask me something, but she started to ask me how I was doing. I started to talk to her, but I was acting like she was telling me to come home. I said things like, "Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. Uuuuuugh!" just acting really annoyed. On the other end, my mom was really confused, she asked me, "Are you ok? What's going on?" I said "just fine," then hung up. We all got in the truck, and I told the group that my mom called and told me I needed to come home right away because I had practice early in the morning. We proceeded to drive to my house so I could be dropped off.

We were about three blocks away from my house and Mandy called. I answered and Mandy said, "Tayva, you come home right now!" -I need to explain something, my parents are from a different country, so they have accents. When Mandy called she was trying to emulate my mother's accent but was totally slaughtering it. So when she called, I was trying so hard not to laugh. I told her I would call her right back, then hung up.

We got to my house, Darren walked me to the door, gave me a hug. As soon as I got in the house, I ran to my mom and began to profusely apologize. I told her, "Mom I am so sorry! I wasn't mad at you, and I wasn't trying to be mean to you!" I then explained to her the whole situation, she thought it was pretty funny. I then drove to Leslie's house and explained the whole thing to her and Mandy. They were laughing so hard they almost started crying. At least some one enjoyed something about the night. Hey, at least I got out of the date early.

Just Ask Her Out

I loathe blind dates. But, when my friend really needed someone to double with her, I agreed to appease her. The boy was nice enough and seemed genuinely interested in me. We went to a performance that included multiple clips from musicals. I thought it was ok, but my date seemed to think it was amazing. Especially during one particular piece - he sat on the edge of his seat watching the female lead singer intently. When it was over, he enthusiastically applauded. During the intermission, he mentioned that he knew the female singer he had been gazing at so fervently. I tried to seem interested as he told me their entire history, though I admit I remember nothing of the details. I think they grew up together. Anyway, he kept talking about her during the whole intermission. Then, right after the performance, he excused himself for a few minutes.

When he returned, he seemed very pleased and made no attempt to hide the fact that he had gone to talk to his old friend. He continued to talk about her and how great her voice was. I began to feel a little like a third wheel, even though she was not with us. We went to my date's apartment afterward to play games. When they decided we should get ice cream, my date volunteered (since he had a car) to run get a few half-gallons. By this time, I was reluctant to spend more time with him than necessary, but my friend convinced me it would be rude if I didn't go with him. So I did.

Guess what he talked about? That's right. His old friend. He even described to me in detail what she had said when he talked to her after the show. Then, get this, he asked me if I thought she might be interested in him. Trying to be positive, I said she probably was. I even sarcastically added he should definitely ask her out. That is when he mentioned he already did. After the show. Yes, he asked her out while he was on a date with me. I decided not to worry anymore about what he might think of me. He obviously wasn't worried about what I thought. Rest of the evening? Well, I am sure you can imagine.

This Really Did Happen

Setting: It is July 3, 2005. I moved into a new apartment. It is my first Sunday afternoon. The phone rings.

Me: Hello.

Caller: Hello. This is Ryan. Is Mary there?

Me: Nope, sorry.

Caller: Ok. Is Emily there?

Me: No.

Caller: How about Kate?

Me: No. I'm the only one home actually.

Caller: Well, who is this?

Me: This is Rachel. I just moved in.

Caller: Oh. I met you in church today. Right before Sacrament meeting. What are you doing tomorrow?

He was looking for a date to go to his FAMILY REUNION on the 4th of July. UMM . . . no. Luckily I had plans.

Two weeks later he calls on a Tuesday evening to see if I want to go play laser tag on a Saturday night. I figure everyone deserves one chance (unless they are a creep), so I said yes.

Friday, the day before the date, he calls again.

Ryan: You aren't by chance endowed are you?

Me: Nope.

Ryan: Oh. Well the reason I asked is because I just found out my cousin is getting married tomorrow, and I was going to see if you wanted to go. Do you care if we go to their reception for our date instead?

To your cousins SEALING? The RECEPTION?

Me: You know, I have a work party, so I'll just go to it, you go to your reception, and we can go out another time.

Nathan: Oh! I'll go with you. Then you come with me. We'll do both.

(Note to single boys: your cousin's wedding reception is NEVER a good idea for a first date.)

This story gets better.

So we get to my work party and, of course, I'm feeling very awkward. My friend Chris, who I can tell is going to tease me about this later, says:

Chris: So Ryan. What are you studying?

Ryan: I'm studying computer science, but I should be doing public relations.

Chris: Yeah, because people that do computer science generally don't have very good people skills. (Snicker Snicker)

NEXT, we get in the car and I ask: Where is this reception?

Chris: Oh. It's in Bountiful.

BOUNTIFUL?!?!?! ARE YOU KIDDING????
BOUNTIFUL IS OVER AN HOUR AWAY!

So we drive up and have awkward conversation. Then we get there and he walks me around to every table and introduces me to every single person.

"This is Rachel. We're on a first date."

Then he asks if I want to dance, while ONLY THE BRIDE AND GROOM are dancing and everyone else is standing around taking pictures and crying.

THEN! We drive home and he tells me about his health problems. One of which, I might add, include YEAST!

I didn't realize boys could have problems with yeast.

Then, thankfully, he dropped me off at 10 pm because he is never in bed past 10 pm.

The next two weeks were followed by random text messages that said, "Hey, do you want to go play catch sometime?"

A Note from Our Sponsor

This week's poll: Apparently, some people are having trouble viewing the Beethoven's 5th videos because BYU blocks YouTube. If you are one of those people, go to the Pass the Ice Cream fan page on Facebook to find out how to view the videos there (because BYU does not block Facebook).

If you still can't view the videos and desperately want to have your sensibilities offended and your time wasted, send an email to passtheicecream@gmail.com--we'll try to figure something out (no guarantees).

Last week's poll: The majority of people voted to keep music on The Blog, but change the mix. However, because this week's poll involves listening to music, the playlist has been temporarily removed. The playlist will return (with new excellent non-love songs) after the close of the Beethoven's 5th poll.

Bad Date Tip of the Week

Last week's bad date tip included bad questions you could ask your bad date. Of course, responses to the classic "What's your major?" can lead to other excellent queries.

To the music major: Commercial real estate or residential?

To the humanities major: What are your plans for eating in the future?

To the teaching major: Which book/film from your youth led you to the idealistic notion that you can change students' lives through teaching? To Sir, with Love? Stand and Deliver? Goodbye, Mr. Chips?

To the law student: Are you required to comprise your moral values as a student? Or does that come with the internship?

To the med student: What unhealthy lifestyle choices are you practicing which you would hypocritically advise others against?

To the science major: Did you have (human) friends growing up?

To the computer science major: Do you have (human) friends now?--I mean ones you see in person, not just people you play online game with or met in chat rooms about online games.

To the business major: Is the gold tie and blue dress shirt combo required for your program? Or do you all just shop off the same mannequins?

To the accountant: If I continue dating you, will you do my taxes for free? (If the answer is 'yes,' and it's between the first of the year and April 15, might be worth the pain of dating them.)

To the engineering major: (No further questions, you have already died of boredom.)

A 'Tribute' to Beethoven

Since the Beethoven post yesterday brought up the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's 'version' of Beethoven's 5th Symphony, I decided we should get to hear it. And, during my visit to YouTube, I discovered many many other excellent renditions.

CAUTION: If you are musically sensitive in any way, your soul may be offended by these videos.

(Also, some of the videos are long, because, well, it's a symphony, not some pop radio hit.)

Video #1: The Trans-Siberian Orchestra (TSO). Enjoy?



Video #2: Seemed semi-appropriate for The Blog.



Video #3: I have no words for this.



Video #4: This video is disturbing and makes no sense--make sure you catch the part in the middle where the kitchen chairs move unaided and the camera is dropped (to simulate an earthquake?)I actually recommend wasting 7:22 seconds of your life to watch the entire thing because it makes less sense as it goes on.



Video #5: Some music just shouldn't be restyled.



Now that you are sufficiently pained, visit the poll on the right to vote for the best--and by best I mean worst--Beethoven video.

Oh, and don't date people who abuse good music with bad renditions and weird images.

Beethoven

Jukeboxes are fun, but not for more than 15 minutes. I learned this from experience.

I was on a double blind date, and we had just ordered dinner at a famous Provo landmark: The Malt Shoppe. So far, so good. Then the jukebox caught my date's eye--he rushed over to put all of his life's savings in the machine, gushing that there were so many good songs to choose from. "Whatever," I thought, "I just hope they'll turn off the other elevator music coming over the restaurant's speakers." (They didn't.)

The dinner conversation consisted of my date telling us the title, artist, album, year released, genre, and history of each song he had chosen. Glares ensued if we didn't get trivia correct--"I mean, come on! Don't you guys know this one?!"

Fast forward a half hour: three of us were ready to move on to the next activity. My date, however, had other plans. "Wait, we still haven't heard all the songs I paid for yet!" We continued the "conversation," but this time without the distraction of dinner.

It finally got interesting when my date asked us, "Ok, guys, what's the best song--with lyrics--ever written?" We each gave a deer-in-the-headlights look and shrugged. Knowing by now he couldn't elicit a better response, he exclaimed, "Beethoven's 5th Symphony!" Now, I don't pretend to be any sort of music guru or snob, but I'm pretty sure that that "song" doesn't have lyrics, so I boldly spoke up. "Uh . . . sorry, but I'm pretty sure that Beethoven's 5th does not have words to it." He promised me that it did, and again I disagreed, until he retorted with, "The Trans-Siberian Orchestra plays it with words!!"

Ah. Excuse me, then--I stand corrected.

As cheap as they get . . .

I (age 21) just moved into a new apartment complex and, naturally, the most obnoxious 19 year old in the complex happened to notice me. We’ll call him Bob. Bob was notorious for trying to put the moves on all of his dates. So I was anything but ecstatic when he asked me out. Although being stuck in this situation was anything but lucky, fate kindly smiled down on me; his roommate decided to double with my roommate an hour before we left.

Because of this little change in plans, we had to leave later than expected since my roommate needed time to get ready. Leaving later meant another change in plans. No big deal. We attempted to go to this Indian restaurant for dinner, only to find it was no longer there. (And I later found out that Bob would take all his dates there and insist on sharing a meal because it’s less expensive that way.) So, instead we drove around for an hour trying to find a place to eat. Every time we drove past a restaurant he’d ask how much it would cost because he was worried about pricing. Finally we decided on a diner in Springville which averaged at $8 a meal. His last words before going in were, “That’s kind of expensive. I’m a poor college student!” Really?! If you’re that poor you shouldn’t offer to take a girl to dinner (because let’s remember that $8 a plate is NOT bad unless you’re going for something like Burger King). After that remark, I ended up getting the cheapest thing on the menu which was about $5. Then I was mocked for it.

After plenty of awkward conversations at the restaurant, we went to the Hare Krishna temple where Bob somehow bargained our entrance fees (because apparently $5/person is TOO much). We were there for about 15 minutes before we decided there was not much to do, so we left.

We headed back to Bob’s apartment to watch some TV. (Um . . . not a good date idea.) After some unsuccessful attempts at holding my hand, he decided to sit on me and tickle me. (Also not cool.) Bob apparently felt like our roommates were cramping his style, so he kept trying to get me to go outside with him to be alone; to, no doubt, try and hold my hand or something. I told him I didn’t want to go outside, so instead of giving up after a few “NO”s….he just decided to force me. He grabbed my arm and started trying to pull me off the couch. Because I was adamant about not going outside, I decided to go limp. Clearly, this too was not clue enough to stop. He dragged me across his apartment floor to the front door, at which time I told him I’d like to go home. Bob and his roommate walked us home, made some smart remarks about door step scenes, then left. Needless to say, he actually took a hint and never asked me out again! SUCCESS!

Doorstep Scenes Make the Date

After a date with a nervous, chattery guy (whom I had tried to put at ease the entire night), I found myself on the doorstep of my apartment. He quickly ended the conversation with, "Well, I guess it's customary at the end of a date to give a hug, so . . . " With that, he shot his arms around me and hauled my body into his, swiftly enough that I had about nanosecond to react--enough time, maybe, to blink in surprise. My face smashed into his chest and I stepped on his toes. I tried really hard not to laugh as he held me there for a moment, wondering if I should turn my face so I could breathe and/or step off his toes mid-hug.

That was the most memorable part of the date--awkward, yes, but definitely the highlight.

Bad Date Tip of the Week

We all know that it's good to ask a date questions about him/herself. This shows that you're interested in them, and that you're a nice person. So next time you're interested (in having a bad time) and want (to appear) to be a nice (but socially inept person), try these unusual and/or probing questions:

So, how many brothers and sisters do you have that you like?

Have you ever been (unintentionally) responsible for the death of one of your pets?

What's your favorite food to binge on when you're depressed?

What movies and television shows do you lie about liking or disliking in order to gain the approval of others?

Do you feel that your job/major is actually useful and necessary in the world? If 'yes,' continue questioning. If 'no,' console them in their irrelevance or point out the necessity of your own job/major.

Booted for Pizza's Sake

*This date story wins a gold star for badness

As freshmen in college you do stupid things. Or stupid things happen to you. Either way it's one of the well-known, unspoken rules that everyone must (or just plain does unknowingly) follow. Years later when you look back on it all--while some details may slip away--the big, fat, stupid, embarrassing memories seem to only get more pungent with time.

This just so happens to be such a memory.

In Britain they call it the boot to begin with. The trunk I mean. Keep this in mind, or nothing else in this story will seem wondrous... or you'll completely miss the pun in the subject line. One or the other.

*Mr. Beanpole was the crazy, funny, goofy one in his apartment. However, he was also the insincere, immature and somewhat awkward one as well. My roommates thought he liked me for a while. I don't have the slightest notion why they would think that. All he did was come over with his apartment for combined FHE and sing lyrics like "we should be lovers!" at the top of his lungs just three inches from my face. He was a classic flirt, but to me that didn't mean much in my direction. Turns out I was right when I answered the phone to hear this from him.

At first he stumbled along through a hello, mentioning that he wanted to know if one of us in the apartment--and it didn't matter who--would go with him to the planetarium that night. "You could call it a date," he said. He then emphasized again, "Anyone though, it doesn't matter who." (Seriously. If you want a girl to feel like a million bucks, say that you want to go out with her... not any one of the six girls in the house. Already I was not too impressed.)

So I laughed, played along with his flippant tone by saying sarcastically, "Oh, so you'll take anything that moves right?" I thought it a clever adaption of a Runaway Bride line. I mused, "I think there's a cat around here somewhere." He laughed back specifying that it had to be a person--a girl. So, being the kindest person in the entire world (forgive me I was a freshmen), I told him I would call him back when I found one of my roommates to go with him. In my mind I was thinking that was better option than having him hear how none of us wanted to go--me included. Being the clueless, but resilient (or desperate?) type he said that this was a really last minute thing, all his roommates already had dates, so he would be right over. Right over meant I had about thirty seconds to figure this out while he crossed the parking lot. Sure enough though, each of my roommates bailed so I ended up being the bait for the date. I should have bailed too, but instead I felt bad, grabbed my shoes and we left.

The planetarium show was already in progress. They wouldn't let us in since we were two minutes late. So backup plan B (that didn't really exist) kicked in: play "capture the flag" in one of the campus buildings. I hardly saw my date, but when I did he said things that were a little weird like how he liked watching me, wanted to hear me say that he was hot, or that he would be gracious enough to let me accept one of his kisses (appending that they were the chocolate kind of course--riiiiiiiiight). Interesting topics for a first date...

Later I got to talking to his roommate, *Texas, and his date, *Sandy, to avoid Mr. Beanpole's awkwardness. Turns out the others were better company. However that didn't stop me from getting nailed in the face with a pillow by that practically impaled my glasses into my brain later at their apartment. Or in other words, it hurt. The reason for the blow? It was "a game." I think it was because I dethroned Mr. Beanpole from being king in Scum. Take your pick.

As the date came to an end out in the parking lot, Mr. Beanpole's roommate, Texas, told me to stand still. Instantly my mind raced through what he or Mr. Beanpole could possibly be thinking to do. The options not being in my favor, I disapproved, and moved. One look at Sandy told me I had done the right thing. One look at the boys said that they too were quite disappointed. However, in a distracting conversation they spontaneously picked Sandy and I both up, and put us... in the trunk.

Yes. You heard me right. The trunk of the car. So much for chivalry.

Later Mr. Beanpole said he thought it would be a fun thing to do, but might have been a little awkward to have a girl and a boy in the trunk together. How considerate that he was thinking of things he could do that were not awkward. I mean driving around town to go get a pizza on the other side of town is the most natural thing to do… IN A TRUNK. Not comfortable no matter what way you do it. Trust me on this one. Getting out of the trunk in a public parking lot is a little embarrassing. People keep looking at you with wide eyes trying to make sure you're not being abducted or something. The boys graciously (insert a nice big eye roll here) allowed the two of us girls to ride in the back of the car.

Once back safe and sound on solid ground the boys tried to prank us with an empty pizza box or dropping things so that they "had to" bend over right in front of me as I'm walking behind him up the stairs. You know, to be funny. (Not very funny at this point, but at least we did get pizza out of it in the end. Nourishment does wonders when you're desperate to get out of there.)

When Mr. Beanpole finally dropped me off, he did not leave me at the door. Instead he decided that he wanted to come into the apartment to see how my roommates would react to hearing about the date. He wanted to see how girls "talk with their eyes without talking." Most likely our faces were a mixture of "deer in the headlights" and "utter horror" but he didn't seem to catch either sentiment. Honestly, I still don't remember how I described all this to my roommates. I mean, how do you tell people that your date (a FIRST date) locked you in their trunk? It's a little awkward...

The moral of this story for the girls: just say no. Really, letting them down from the start can't be as bad as this.

The moral of this story for the boys: put the pizza in the trunk--not the date. Please!

Cat Attack

My memorable date happened the evening my date and I were going to a formal dance at the high school. He arrived in his suit, looking very nice. Our livingroom and entryway were divided by a waist high bookcase. My date waited for me in the entryway. When I came into the entryway and approached my date, the protective instincts (?) of my crazy Siamese cat took over and she leaped from the bookcase with all claws out onto my date's back. My mother and I gently pried the cat off of his back while we profusely appologized. This was not my worst date, but must be on his list of worst dates. (He did ask me out again, but we made sure my cat was not in the livingroom when he arrived to pick me up for our dates.)

Sometimes I'm the Problem

Tales from the life of the Keeper of the Blog

Sometimes I do weird things on dates. It can't really be helped, I'm just a weird person.

One Saturday evening, I rushed back to my apartment after spending the day at my parents' house. I was totally late getting ready for my date, so I threw all my stuff--laundry, homework, and groceries--on my bed. I thought the groceries were all non-perishables and would be fine sitting in my room until I got home later. Changed my clothes. Brushed my hair. Boy came over to pick me up.

It was a group date, and we walked up to campus for some kind of performance. Part way through the performance, I remembered the eggs. The eggs that were sitting on my bed with my groceries. The unrefrigerated eggs that were slowly rotting on my bed and would no longer be safe to eat by the time I got home from my date since we were planning to do some stuff at his apartment afterward--ice cream, games/movie, and the like.

I spent the rest of the performance worrying about the eggs.

On the way back to our apartment building, my date was talking about something, and I wasn't paying any attention because I was thinking about eggs.

Finally, I said, "Is it okay if I stop by my apartment really quick?"

The boy looked confused. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I just need to stop by my apartment for a minute, and then I can come back over to your apartment."

He still looked confused. "Okay. But why do you need to go to your apartment?"

"I have eggs on my bed."

"What?"

I said it more slowly: "I have eggs on my bed."

"What?"

"I went shopping, and I didn't have time to put my food away because I was late, so I just put all my food on my bed, and most of it will be okay, but I forgot that I bought eggs, and I left the eggs on my bed, and now they're going to rot, and smell bad, and I'll have to throw them away unless I go home and put them in the refrigerator right now, and it really won't take me very long, and the eggs should be fine still at this point, but by the time I get home later tonight the eggs might not be fine because there's only like a two-hour window for leaving out perishable foods, and I'll come right over to your apartment when I'm done." I said this in one breath.

He responded with,"oh," and then he changed the subject.

A Note from Our Sponsor

Comment: Thanks to everyone who has sent in stories. If your story hasn't been posted yet, it will be.

Facebook anyone? Pass the Ice Cream now has a fan page. Find it. Fan it. Share it.

New feature this week: Check out the poll about music on the blog (side bar, middle of the page), and cast your vote.

Reminders: Send your bad date stories to passtheicecream@gmail.com, so that I have stuff to post (other than my own lame stories). And tell your friends.

A Hand-Holding Break Up

I had been dating *James for about 6 or 7 months and I thought things were going really well. Then one day, James came to pick me up for some food and a drive. We went to get food, but James stood hesitantly in the parking lot, so I reached up to grab his arm and go in (I was hungry). James apparently thought I was grabbing his hand to hold, which at the time, I figured it didn't matter either way. We had a nice meal and afterward, James wanted to drive up the Alpine Loop (in the canyon). James didn't have the best navigational skills, so we ended up on a rather long and bumpy ride down a very dark, very unpaved road. We hadn't been having much of a conversation. In fact, I was rather tired, so I was laying back in the seat resting while James still held my hand. After several hours, James realized he had the wrong road. We turned back and made our continuing-to-be-silent way back to my apartment.

Just as we got there, he said, "Something was supposed to happen tonight."

Me, being the ignorant and still-in-love girl, I thought he meant he wanted to kiss me, so I said, "Oh, really?" all coy and knowing.

He looked at me and said, "Not that."

That was when he let go of holding my hand (he had been holding it for almost the entire night). And then proceeded to say that he didn't think we should date anymore. I was pretty shocked, since he had just been holding my hand and I hadn't seen any other clues or anything. He kept talking while I was silently stunned. He mentioned that he hadn't dumped me right at the beginning of our "date" because I had grabbed his hand. I decided not to tell him I was just trying to get him to go in because I was hungry. After he talked for a bit longer and I had told him I was ok (which, I wasn't) I got out of the car.

The best line of the night came then. He said, "So, I'll see you around?"

I looked back with a killer crusty and said "Probably not."

Then I walked inside and bawled my eyes out.

For guys: don't hold hands with a girl for several hours and then dump her and then expect to be all "see you around."

Bad Date Tip of the Week

If you're on a bad date, and you want to subtly suggest that things aren't going so hot, just bring up this blog.

You can say to your date, "Hey, do you ever read that bad date blog, Pass the Ice Cream?"

Whether your date says 'yes' or 'no' isn't really important--you're not that into them anyway, so you've probably stopped paying attention to their responses.

Then you can follow up with, "There's just something about this night that reminds me of that website. It just keeps popping into my head."



*Thanks to www.flickr.com/photos/tulipfleurs/2307884775/ for the great photo of ube ice cream.

The Really Classy Guy

I went to Knott's Berry Farm with a good friend and met up with a guy I had been set up with a couple months prior. I had emailed this guy and we chatted on the phone and he seemed like a good guy. He even came to San Diego with a friend to do a session in the temple and then met me and a friend for dinner.

So while we're at Knott's Berry Farm he gets onto one of the rides and shuts the door in front of me and tells me I'll have to wait for the next cart. It was supposed to be funny. I wasn't thrilled. He then had to ask the people running the ride to unlock the door so I could get on.

The day goes on and he starts making jokes, I didn't find them funny and really wasn't liking the way this day was turning out. Shortly thereafter his friends convince him to ask a group of girls for their phone numbers. He comes back telling them he got all three numbers and that one was really cute. Well yeah, that ended that adventure. I promptly turned to my friend and told her we were going home. He tried running after us and I told him not to bother talking to me anymore. He tried calling a couple days later completely unaware that what he did was completely stupid. He never tried calling again.

Telephone Break Up

I had been dating a guy for about 4 1/2-5 months. Everything was going relatively well or so I thought. Then I got a phone call. Now really how many stupid guys dump girls over the phone????? That's really tasteless guys!!!!! The phone conversation went:

"How are you feeling?" (I had been sick the week before.)

"I'm doing great, how are you?"

"Well, I um... I um think we should be just friends."

Now trying not to sound too upset--which probably totally hurt him--but, oh well, he was the one doing the dumping so he had it coming to him, "Okay sounds good to me."

He went on to explain, but it was like blah blah blah and the usual and some stuff that sounded like he was trying to get me to cry, but I wouldn't back down, no, I was tough! We said goodbye, I hung up the phone and then broke down. Gosh, I was so good at holding it all in.

Well, I got over that one quickly. The next weekend I had a party at my house,, and we were all laughing about how I got dumped over the phone. Oh, yes, and the time that registered on my cell phone was 1 minute...how pathetic!

A laptop is good for many things

This was a second or third date with *Ryan. The plan was to head up Provo canyon with some of his friends and their dates, cook tin foil dinners, and watch a movie on someone's laptop (because laptops make possible something as cool as watching a movie while up in the canyon).

It's a bit of a drive up the canyon, but we all made it, found a nice spot at one of the park areas, unloaded everything from the cars, and began prepping vegetables, etc. for the tin foil dinners. Then someone discovered that a crucial dinner element had been left behind - the tin foil. So, one couple left to drive all the way back down the canyon to retrieve the foil. By the time they drove all the way back up the canyon, it was dark. Assembling a tin foil dinner by the light of a flashlight was interesting.

I think we started watching the movie while dinner was cooking on the fire. I must say, it was not the most supreme movie-watching experience of my life. A laptop doesn't have great sound-projection abilities, and we were right next to a little stream, so Ryan and I couldn't actually hear the movie. A laptop doesn't generally have a large screen, and we did have a large group on our date, so Ryan and I couldn't actually see the movie, either. I had not previously seen the movie, so I really had no idea what it was that I wasn't able to hear or to see.

Part way through the movie someone checked the dinners (by the most excellent light of a flashlight) and decided they were done enough to eat. Having been raised by an extremely food-safety-conscious mother, I was hesitant about eating what I perceived to be more-raw-than-done meat. So I picked around in my tin foil and ate a few bites of not-so-soft vegetables. Yummy.

About this time the laptop battery ran out, which, of course, meant the movie shut off. Never fear though - the date planners had brought along a back-up laptop. Hooray. Now the movie which I could neither hear nor see could continue. The laptop switch was made and the movie was queued back up.

Shortly thereafter we heard a man speaking loudly into a megaphone, instructing everyone to leave the canyon. What? Yes, you see the canyon parks are closed after 10:00 PM. Lovely. Someone turned on the headlights of one of the cars so we could see enough to pack everything up. We drove back to Provo, to the real home (not the apartment) of one of the girls. I'm sure inside this home we could have found a lovely family room with a DVD player and a normal size television where we could have finished watching the movie (because who could end the date without at least finishing the movie?). But, instead the decision was made to bring out our blankets and watch the end of the movie on the LAPTOP while sitting on her front lawn.

In other news, Ryan and I are now happily married. :)

Third Wheel

*Billy had an important night. It was open mic night at the comedy club in Salt Lake and he wanted lots of support as he tried out new material. After asking lots of friends to join him, the only ones who could attend were his girlfriend, *Sally, and this story's author, *Kelly. Kelly had been friends with Billy for a long time, and wasn't worried about any awkwardness of being a third wheel. Billy was good at making everyone comfortable and like they belonged.

Things didn't get weird until halfway through the night, when Kelly glanced over to Sally, the girlfriend, and saw her white blouse unbuttoned about halfway down. Yes, halfway down. And she was wearing a black bra. 'Hmmm,' Kelly thought to herself, 'I guess it is kind of stuffy in here, but that's a little strange.' Did Kelly say anything about it? No. Why? Well, comedy clubs are kind of dark, and Kelly had a hard time opening her mouth about anything. Little bit awkward.

A little while later, things got more awkward. One of the comics stepped off stage and said 'Thank you' to Sally. She turned to Kelly and sincerely asked, "Why did he tell me 'thank you'?"

"Maybe because your shirt is unbuttoned," Kelly said, trying to be inoffensive. Alarmed and confused, Sally quickly buttoned up her shirt. 'That was strange, too," Kelly thought. Billy was only somewhat aware of this situation. He was either watching the other comics and taking notes (that's what hacks do), or on stage himself.

So what happened that night? Why was Sally confused at her unbuttoned shirt? Well, because she didn't do it . . . sort of. It wasn't until later that Kelly found out that Sally was diagnosed with multiple personality disorder, which developed on account of pain from severe endometriosis. Billy knew but hadn't mentioned it. So it was another Sally that unbuttoned the shirt, and the actual Sally that, after being embarrassed about it, rebuttoned it, and maybe a few others in between.

Moral of the story: Third-wheeling is not for the faint of heart. That, or ask for medical and psychiatric records up front.

Bad Date Tip of the Week

If you want to have a bad date, follow the lead of my good friend *Simon. One day, Simon commented to my friend *Emily, "If you were a Star Wars character, you would be Chewbacca."

They were not on a date at the time, but comparing girls to large hairy creatures has about the same effect no matter what the circumstances.

Match not Made in Heaven

Right after serving an LDS mission (two years, no girls), I was “invited” to ask out the daughter of a former teacher who liked me (the teacher, not the girl). My old girlfriend had gotten married while I was gone, and I hadn’t been out on a date of any kind since I’d gotten home; I hadn’t been out on a first date for nearly three years.

Lacey was described as a ‘babealicious hottie goddess.’ She was. I was also informed that she and I were perfect for each other. We weren’t. One particular exchange pretty much sums up the whole date. She found out that I’d recently returned from mission and got excited (as girls in Utah often do).

In her enthusiasm she exclaimed, “Wow, don’t you just wish you were back out there in the mission field?”

“No. No way. Absolutely not. It was great and all, but you have no idea how nice it is to be back.”

“Oh . . . well . . . maybe it’s just you because lots of my friends say that they wish they were still on their missions.”

“That’s nice.”

Wait--is this a date?

Submitted by B-52

I should have known. The fact that he was on the other end of that phone (yet again) should have clued me in. Alas, I am dense, and could therefore be tricked into going on a date with a boy I was completely uninterested in.

"Hey, some of our friends are hanging out tonight, wanna come?"

We're still friends, I thought. The talk was good, we agreed not to date, but he's nice and we're friends. Heck, why not?

And I said yes.

J showed up with two other guys in a four-door sedan. As I climbed in the back seat, friend A casually asked friend B how to get to B's date's home. Tactless as usual, I blurted out, "Wait, this is a date?"

. . . silence . . .

Friend A: "You didn't tell her?!"

As if it wasn't bad enough that I was on a date against my will, the evening had no redeeming qualities. The dates the other two guys had chosen were still sophomores in high school. Four years their senior, I had nothing in common with them. However, we did spend a fair amount of time getting to know each other in close proximity -- remember the four door sedan? Three guys plus their dates makes six people total. A four door sedan seats five. My date was thrilled with this result, as I was halfway on his lap the entire hour-long drive. Me, not so much.

The photos documenting the evening are on facebook somewhere. I'm always on the fringe of the group, trying to maintain a decent amount of space between J and me, with a fake grin plastered on my face, the two other 'couples' cute and cuddly. Standing in the cold at a soccer game, it's clear I'm having the time of my life.

Conversation topics for the evening:

"Um...which body type can pull off skinny jeans?" "They don't make you look fat." "Oh, good, I was worried."

"So, what's the point of this game? Trying to make fieldgoals?" "No, just goals. And you have to do it without touching the ball with your hands." "But how do they run and kick the ball at the same time?"

"Guys, Tide pens are such miracles. I just can't live without them, but I've never been able to figure out how on earth they work. Is it just some kind of white paint you're putting on your clothes?" "I think it's just straight acid." "Well, that's better."

Intellectually stimulating, no?

Finally, the game had ended, I had at least gotten a burger and root-beer float out of the fiasco, and we had driven back. I thought I was home free.

"We saved the best for last. Let's go up to make-out point and shine lights on steamy cars. Maybe we can get some good photos!"

The Boggle Date: Part 2

Tales from the life of the Keeper of the Blog

*David and I doubled with his roommate (also weird) and his nearly-mute date. Though I had many mutual friends with the two guys, I had never met this girl. (And since she did not produce a full sentence through entire course of the evening, I can still say that that I have never really met her.)

First, the four of us made cookies. The boys had somehow failed to get a mixing bowl for making the cookies (they had no suitable vessels for mixing dough in their apartment), so we actually went back to my apartment to get a bowl, which I thought was incredibly awesome.

While the cookies were baking, we played some games. I was pretty happy about the prospect of playing games because I'm good at games. I am from a game-playing family and can win just about anything against non-game-players.

First game: Pit. Good. I was raised playing Pit. I can play Pit in my sleep. I can kick your trash at Pit.

I lost Pit.

I lost by a lot.

Silent girl won, and I was more than a little miffed because Silent Girl couldn't utter more than one word at a time (which may have worked to her advantage since you only need one-word utterances in Pit). So, sore loser that I am, I suggested we switch to Boggle. Everyone else agreed to this.

However, I failed to mention that I am a Boggle champion. Unlike Pit, Boggle is a game of knowledge and skill. Boggle requires a good vocabulary. I have this vocabulary. I can beat nearly anyone I know at Boggle without even trying. Silent Girl had never played Boggle before--even better. I would crush her. And David. And his roommate. I would crush them.

I did crush them. I crushed them all. I more than crushed them. I pulverized them. I blew them out of the water. I blew them out of the solar system.

They were three of the four worst Boggle players I had ever seen. Silent Girl couldn't spell even basic words so most of the words on her page didn't even count.

At first, I was quick to tell the others when I had the same words as them. Quick to tell them when the word they found wasn't actually on the board. Quick to point out every word they should cross off their list. Then I read my word list, which was very long and included many very long words. They didn't question my words. They were in awe.

But as I pulled farther and farther ahead, I started to feel a little bad about how poorly they were all doing and a little guilty about having suggested the game I knew I would win without warning them that I would win. So I stopped making them cross out words. I stopped calling them out on misspellings. I did everything I could let Silent Girl get at least a point or two each round. I even handicapped myself, so that I only wrote down words with four or more letters (not just three). Toward the end of the game I imposed a five-letter handicap on myself. I still did awesome.

By the end of the game, I was so embarrassed for them for being so bad at the game and for myself for being such a jerk, that I refused to share my final score--it was more than double the other three players' scores combined. David found my paper and (since he is a very nice person) congratulated me.

The cookies baked into large, flat frisbees. They were the worst-looking cookies I had ever seen.

The Boggle Date: Part 1

Tales from the life of the Keeper of the Blog

The date I refer to as 'the Boggle date' is memorable for two reasons: one, because we played a terrible game of Boggle (to be detailed in The Boggle Date: Part 2); and two, because it was the first time a boy asked me out in person--as opposed to over the phone--and I did not respond very well.

One weekday afternoon, *David, who lived in an apartment down the hall, knocked on my door.

David was genuinely nice person . . . but he was a little weird. At parties he sometimes sat in the corner of the room and sang tunes from South Pacific to himself. Whenever I passed him in our building hallway, he wished me a 'Happy Birthday.' Sometimes this happened two or three times in a single day. I told him he was making me old.

On this particular day, I did not invite David inside (because the boy I liked was already sitting in my livingroom), so we exchanged 'how are you's' at the door. Then he said, "Do you want to go out with me on Friday?"

But since I was, at that moment, totally focused on other boy, David's question sounded more like, "Fla fla fla fla fla?"

I was so caught off guard, all could do was stare--although it may have looked more like a glare--at this poor boy. About twenty seconds later I responded with, "Wait, what?"

"Do you want to go out with me on Friday?"

This time I heard the words, but it still took another ten or twenty seconds for the question to sink in. In the mean time, I continued to stare, open-mouthed, at David. I had heard of guys asking girls out in person, but it had never happened to me before, and I really just didn't know what to do with myself.

Finally, I answered, "Oh . . . um . . . sure. Yes. Um, yes. That--would be fine."

I'm certain that David felt very reassured and confident at that moment. And I felt like a jerk. For not inviting him in--I made him stand in the hallway outside my door (who does that?). For not paying enough attention to answer the question the first time--I've heard some guys have to work up a lot of courage to ask a girl out, and making him ask the question twice is just mean. And, finally, for not responding more enthusiastically, like I should have acted excited(?), happy (?), or at least nice(?) about the upcoming date--I should have said it would be 'fun,' not 'fine.'

I'm sorry, David. You are a nice person. I am moron.