J: The awkward Midwesterner

Context: I had originally planned to spend my Monday evening on a 3rd date with Mr. Chicago, but he ended up having to work late, which is probably good because I learned my lesson about putting all my eggs in one basket earlier this year. Also, have you ever thought about how weird that analogy is? Like, why would you split your eggs into multiple baskets? Are there rogue basket-stealing Easter bunnies running around in your neighborhood? Why do we associate bunnies with eggs? So many questions. Regardless, I messaged a couple people to see if they were free for dinner, and ‘Lanky’ happened to be available! We decided to meet at Fireworks at 6:30.

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Can we talk about opening lines for a hot second? They are the make-or-break of your conversation. The bread and butter, the tequila and lime, the pumpkin and basic betch. We’ve found that openers tend to fall into one of three baskets (MORE BASKETS!):

  1. “Hey sexi mami cum sit on my faceeee” and related sexual requests/references to my womanly gifts that are really, really irresistible and tempting and always work!!
  2. “Hey girl, do you read Dr. Seuss? Because, green eggs and DAYUM” (or other highly google-able pickup lines)
  3. “Hey, J! How’s your week going?” (<—-PICK THIS ONE! PICK THIS ONE!)

Lanky, the charming, clever lad that he is, really stepped outside the box with perhaps the most low-effort, high-reward opening line I have ever received:

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How could I say no?! Especially when you compare it to more high-effort, low-reward, very very trying too hard messages like this:

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So, pizza and beer? YUP.

Lanky was 6’5, so I had no problem spotting him outside the restaurant, alleviating the initial awkwardness of meeting someone new. Unfortunately, that was the LEAST awkward moment of the night. Things started to go downhill when I went in for a hug and he… didn’t… and I pretty much ended up punching him in the side.

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We grabbed a table outside, and I quickly learned that he has ZERO CONVERSATIONAL SKILLS. COOL!!! Our conversation went a lot like this:

J: Oh wow, this is a huge beer list! What kind of beer do you usually go for?
L: Beer.
J: Oh, haha! Cool! I usually go for wheat beers, but this Abita looks great. How about pizza?
L: Meat. Cheese.
J: Ah, classic. Does this one sound good, then?
L: Maybe.

Guys, this was like PULLING. TEETH. To make matters worse, our waitress was nowhere to be found. It was legitimately 15 minutes before she even took our drink orders, and apparently she went to go source the water from its native spring and stop by a brewery on the way back because she was gone another 20 minutes after that. This is where I had to resort to the hard-hitting questions to keep some semblance of a conversation going.

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Things got a little better once the pizza came, because at least then I had my two best friends (cheese and bread) to hang out with, and he seemed to loosen up somewhat after his 2nd beer. Still, when the waitress brought the check after cutting down a tree and making the receipt paper and ink on her own, I felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. It was only 8, but I pulled out a big full-body yawn and proclaimed how early I had to be up for work tomorrow and how I should really be getting to bed. There’s a 0% chance he believed me, and there’s a 150% chance that I gave negative fucks. We hugged (he reciprocated this time! He likes me, he really likes me!) and went our separate ways after I insisted I didn’t need to be walked home (mostly because I had to pee like a mofo and didn’t need anyone slowing me down).

Hey, another strike-out. But that’s okay. Back to the drawing board*!

*couch

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My twitter followers love me

XOXO,
J

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