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.