Super Bad Date Crasher

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After the traumatizing training session, I picked up my phone and listened to a rather disturbing voicemail:

"Um, Drew, this is Lee. I am getting ready to go to Starbucks on a date which
will be really bad. I just know it. This guy has asked me out repeatedly. Today,
he put me on the spot, so I couldn't say know. I met him at the DMV. So, you
know, if you wouldn't mind popping by and saving me at some point, I would
appreciate it. I'm meeting him at 5:15."

I glanced at the clock, it was 5:45, which meant the poor girl had endured roughly an half hour of this guy. Far too much time for a good friend to have to spend being tortured in Starbucks.

I breezed into Starbucks in my best date-crashing form. Though, I wasn't really sure what my best date-crashing form was. Simply because I normally arm all good friends with tools to getting out of the date beforehand.

I ordered my drink and "happened" to see my friend. We, of course, pretended to be surprised to see each other. And she introduced me. I quickly sized up the guy. Pathetic does not even begin to describe it. I could easily see that she was miserable and being subtle was NOT going to work. This was going to have the be a full-blown evil bitch job. I mentally rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

Rather than politely asking if I minded he minded if I sat down and joined them, I quickly pulled up a chair plopped myself directly in front of him. Grand Inquisition-style. He looked super excited. I loudly, and rudely, announced that I was Lee's very best friend. And I was here to conduct the interview. If he ever wanted another date, it was me he had to get by. I started off easily. Blood type, pets, family, background, childhood, vehicles, you know, the boring stuff. As he was speaking, I cut him off mid-sentence and asked him if he was in the military. He said that yes, he had been, for six years.

I looked at him with a raised eyebrow and stated rather flatly "We don't like military people. Strike one."

(I honestly didn't know I had it in me to be this heinously rude to people.)

This, of course, threw him for a loop. I spent the next forty-five minutes shredding the poor guy with every question imaginable. I would like to say that he hesitated when I asked him if he would ever take drugs again (he has done acid and weed, on occasion) which was clearly strike two and three.

Then, I pulled out the big guns: religion.

Without getting into the bloody details, I will leave you with the last question I asked the poor lad before my friend finally thought up an excuse to leave.

"So. How do you feel about the immaculate conception?"

*I would just like to say that guys who take women to Starbucks for a date, suck. Badly. It simply sets you up for a long miserable evening where baristas laugh at your misfortune.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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