Somehow I managed to hear this song and this song back to back tonight without even trying. Yes, I know I'm a dork with a terrible taste in music. Anyway, it's made me what this guy once described as a "morose motherfucker," so I'm saying screw this mood and telling funny dating stories rapid fire like. It might not make much sense to you but it'll amuse me and that's what is important right now.
"Turn right now."
"But that's a cornfield."
"Turn right now."
"She doesn't live in the middle of a cornfield Ms. GPS."
"How do you know?"
"What did you say?"
"Turn right now."
"There's no house in the middle of that cornfield."
"Turn right now."
"Fuck you GPS."
"Fuck you too Paul."
I may have been slightly insane with nervousness.
Different woman.
"What do you plan on doing with that thing?"
"I normally hook the electrodes up to a guy's testicles and see how much he can take."
"Uh, NO."
Same woman. Same date technically but we're out for breakfast the next morning when my phone rings. It's my ex wife. I only answer because it could be an emergency with our son.
"Hello," I say annoyed.
"Hi Paul. How was your date?"
"It's still going on," I delight in telling her.
"Oh," she says, "Um, I was going to see if Brad and I could come over and use your shower because there doing work down the street and shut our water off."
"Sure, we're out having breakfast," I said, "I'll tell you where I hid the key so you can get in but you better make sure to go in before Brad does."
"Why's that?"
"Because we couldn't find her panties or vibrator this morning," I delight in telling her, "They could be anywhere."
Different woman a half hour into our only date.
"So Paul, I have to tell you something."
"Um, okay."
"I'm homeless, my mom kicked me out, I only have enough money for one more night at the motel, and I'll do anything you want if you let me move in with you."
"Uh, NO. Check please."
Different woman after I foolishly agreed to meet right after work for our first date.
"I swear this is little pieces of cardboard I'm picking off my shirt not dandruff."
"Sure, Paul, sure."
Same woman I somehow got a second date with. Before the date I'm thinking she's cool and quirky and I need to wear something interesting that might amuse her. I look at my limited clothing selection and dismiss the Cardinals shirt, the other Cardinals shirt, the Cardinals shirt with holes in it, and the one button up shirt I own. Then I find it, my A Christmas Story shirt that says "You'll shoot your eye out" on it. She'll love it.
Months later, "He wore a stupid Christmas tee shirt on our second date. Here I am dressed up to make myself look great and he's wearing a dumb fucking tee shirt. I couldn't even listen to what he's saying because I'm just thinking about that stupid fucking shirt. I'm thinking what balls on this moron."
Same woman and I have no idea why she kept dating me either. I'm meeting her son for the first time and their cable is messed up. I'm behind the television thinking I'll be a hero for fixing it. I knew kids didn't really give a damn who fixed the cable as long as they had cable but for some reason I thought it would impress him.
"Go back to your precious wife and son," her son says from the sofa while he waits for me to fix the cable.
I don't say anything. What could I say to that? I get the cable fixed and then talk to her in the other room and I tell her what he said. She looks at me like Dick Cheney just jumped out of my eye and I swear to her he said it. We have a long conversation about what it means and how to handle it. We decide the best course of action is to do nothing and see what happens so we head back into the living room.
She picks up a short story collection by Kurt Vonnegut that she had set down on the couch earlier and starts laughing me. She nudges me and points to the page she had left the book open to. The next story in the book was titled Go Back to Your Precious Wife and Son.
Different woman on our first and only date.
"So Paul, tell me something astonishing about yourself."
Awkward silence.
"Well, I'm an awesome dad and I have a big penis but those two don't have anything to do with each other."
Awkward silence.
"Check please."
Different woman and things aren't going well.
I text my friend, "Help me I'm in white trash hell."
"How can I help?"
"Call me and tell me you have car trouble so I have an excuse to leave."
Phone rings, "Hello."
My friend speaks loud enough for anyone within ten feet of my phone to hear, "Hi Paul. Who has car trouble again, me or you?"
There's more stories. I didn't even include "She took away your pork rind privileges, didn't she?" or "He's the guy with the vasectomy and the clown nose." Still, I'm no longer morose. It's strange that my failures with women often cheer me up as much as they depress me but I'm strange after all so it only makes sense. It might be the only thing about dating that does.
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