Context: Hello from South America! While I’m on vacation, I’m keeping the guest posts rolling – this time, with another one from MC! She’s doing the “Summer of YES” WAYYY right.
Hey squad! As they say – another day, another date, another guest post. SUMMER OF YES, Y’ALL.
I matched with ‘Bro’ about a month before we actually met. At the time, I was busy with Grad school finals (IT’S THE FINAL FINALSSSSS DOO-DOO-DOO-DOOOOO*), vacation, graduation, and a new job, so I was making him wait patiently to meet and woo me. Real talk though, I was actually very excited to meet him, because he seemed just like my type – handsome, charming, and the elusive good texter. Also, he still wanted to take me out after me canceling on him three times. Not uno, not dos, THREE. Is this boy a unicorn?!
Thus, I was looking forward to meeting Bro on a Monday evening after work. Wait – let me rephrase. By ‘meeting,’ I mean ‘hopping into the car of a potential axe murderer who I had only spoken to a few times’ because homeboy picked me up from my office. Yes. This is a thing that he did.
He had mentioned previously that he wanted to go to Pizza Paradiso, and while I’m not actually a huge pizza fan (I know, sue me, but bring me tacos first), I didn’t feel like I could be too picky since I wasn’t paying. And trust me, I wasn’t paying. #MenAreWallets2016
Me: Pizza Paradiso sounds great! I’ll meet you there!
Bro: NO! I will pick you up from work!
…k. So now my inner dialogue is having a field day. This dude wants to drive into the middle of DC, during rush hour on a Monday, and find parking in Dupont?? Something must be wrong with this guy. And, I was right! Turns out homeboy lives in Burke, VA, a solid 20 miles outside DC. Hey, props for dedication?
So, back to the part where this weirdly determined, potential-axe-murder bro picks me up! I hopped into his car, and after a brief introduction it became highly evident that he had no idea how to get to the restaurant. When I tried to give him some helpful directions (seeing as I, like, live and work in the city…) he denied me flat out.
B: Oh no. I know where I’m going.
It turns out that I had just spoken the last words I would be able to get out for the next 35 minutes. I’m serious, guys. THE KID WOULD NOT SHUT UP. And, as J can vouch, I can talk. When you manage to keep me quiet, things are bad.
A solid 40 minutes* later (measured in Netflix minutes, two episodes of Friends later…), we got to Pizza Paradiso. We sat at our table, and he let me choose the pizza, which I really appreciated! I asked the waiter for a beer recommendation, and of course he recommended the most expensive one. Hey, if this guy’s gonna talk my ear off this whole time, I’m gonna need some quality beer. Also, thots don’t pay.
*Kid tried to drive down Eye Street NW at 6 PM, because he’s a nincompoop
Between listening to Bro’s entire life story (kindergarten was dark for him), learning how he attended four different colleges, enjoys history, and often has a hard time listening (SHUT. THE. FRONT. DOOR.), he finally remembers to compliment me. Literally in the middle of a story about EVERYTHING ELSE.
B: And that’s when I learned that you should never pet a squirrel while it’s eating an acorn. You look really nice today by the way!! Now, things change once the squirrel sets down the acorn…
A few thousand stories later, we’ve FINALLY finished the pizza. The waiter came by, and I was PRAYING to every deity I’ve ever learned that he would have the check.
Waiter: Do we want another beer?
Me: *Internally* NO NO NO NO NO
Me: *Externally* No, I think I’m okay…
Bro: Hell yes we do!
Me: *shrivels and dies*
My friends, I chugged that beer faster than a freshman frat bro. I could have finished a case race by myself at that speed.
It was finally time to leave, and naturally Bro suggests that we grab another drink elsewhere. I politely declined, and he offered me a ride home. Luckily traffic isn’t as bad this time around, but he still manages to pelt me with several more stories on the way back to my house. As we were pulling up, I tried to do a tuck and roll maneuver out of the vehicle up to my doorstep, key at the ready. This would have worked, if it wasn’t for
those meddling kids my key getting STUCK IN THE LOCK. REALLY, UNIVERSE? NOW?!
After a solid 45 seconds of me praying that Bro has left and doesn’t see me struggling with the door, he appears by my side. AHHHH. He does manage to get the door open, which is nice, but of course he wants to come in. I responded by thanking him and slamming the door in his face. I’ve been told I’m charming?
Well, apparently slamming the door didn’t leave as bad an impression as expected, because he texted me the next day to let me know he had a great time. It’s a tough dating scene out there, folks, and I’m just living in it.
X’s and O’s,