Surprise!  You’re Dating!

by George

Editor:
This piece was originally written for another project long ago and has been resurrected from the archives. So, if you notice that the style and tone are different that’s because they were written by different people at different times. But… The topics are still just as relevent today as they were then! Enjoy!

When you think of the oddest things you’ve ever had to say in your life, what comes to mind? I always thought the winner for me would be, “I’m sorry. You’re not the Miss America I was looking for.”  I should have known that could never stay at the top of the list.

Not so long ago, I was out with a friend.  At least, I think it was a friend.  Or maybe I thought it was a friend at the time, because they had been one for years, but then it turned out to be something else.  I just didn’t know it before we went out together.  He nonchalantly asked about my love life and I made mention of my person.  Then came the look of surprise from him, and the look of confusion from me. 

One little question made the evening go sideways: “Wait a second, are we on a date?”

I watched his face twist as he made stammering guttural noises. After he finally replied, “Well, not ANYMORE!” with a giggle, I quickly excused myself to the bathroom to regroup and figure out what had turned this brilliant girl into such a vapor lock with feet.

My brain mentally replayed the past couple of hours – yes, it took me that long – to look for clues in the mix.  Meeting up at odd hours, greeting one another with a hug and a bit of a back scratch, and joking around while making slyly sexy comments were something we had always done.  My reflection reasoned with me that we were only friends up until now, so I should be forgiven for this.  After all, it’s not as if I don’t have plenty of guy friends that I go out with when my person is tired.  I took out my phone and read the texts from that week again, hoping to spot something in our innocent bantering that should have tipped me off to the change in circumstance.

Actually, I really would like to have sex with you this time when we go out together.  Really.  No kidding.  Nope, not there.

All this time I thought you were a lesbian, but I finally figured out that you’re not.  Is it okay for me to hit on you for real now?  Didn’t see it anywhere.

How about we have a drink and put our parts together this evening?  Shockingly missing from the list.

Gathering the stamina to return to the table, I sat down with a little smile and we both decided to have another drink as we laughed about the fercockety way we ended up in such a hilarious situation.  Yes, it was definitely a date by then.  That’s how first dates go sometimes, you know.  It’s just a good thing that the night ended up so much less confusing than it began, if you get my drift.  My person got the biggest laugh of all out of it when I got home and relayed the evening’s events back to him.  It was a prime chance for him to point out how oblivious I am to the subtle effects of all my flirting.

But such a thing couldn’t happen more than once, right?  Certainly, having had the experience under my belt, I would know for sure the next time that a heretofore friend was asking me out for real.  Flashing lights and a marching band would suddenly appear, or a tiny elephant would sprout from someone’s pocket with a note explaining it to me.  I mean, my head is thick, but it couldn’t possibly be thick enough to miss those signals more than once.

Not more than three months later, I had the same thing happen all over again.

Sometimes I drive past my own house at the end of the day, because I’m lost in my head and pass the entrance.  I’m the girl that asked if we had to change the clock in the car once we passed from south to north across the Canadian border.  Puns escape my facehole in conversation without my knowledge.  I hum and don’t even realize I’m doing it.  Let’s not even talk about how I thought that Martin Luther and Martin Luther King were related when I was younger.  The space cadet in my head takes over and a “HUH?  WHAAAA…?!?!” atmosphere often ensues.  For such a smart person, I’m a real f*cking idiot.

People split the bill on dinner dates.  People have a drink and treat it like an interview.  People invite their friends along to events without warning.  How on earth are we supposed to keep up with what’s “a date-date” versus just a date?  I think next time I get an inkling towards the former, I’ll just wear a shirt that says, “WE ARE ON A DATE” to the outing.  Maybe I’ll even come up with a hilarious mascot to put on it, something like a holographic meerkat standing sentry and drinking a cup of coffee; one whose head direction changes depending on which way you stand.  Not only will it clear up any confusion on both sides, but it can serve as a wonderful way to break the ice in a usually nerve-racking rendezvous. 

In fact, I’m going to start selling these shirts online as a way to fund my accidental dating habit.  You should keep one in the car, just in case you get to the designated meeting spot and get a twinge of premonition.  You can’t have mine.  I’ll need one of my own.

01 October 2014

Resources