A few days ago I got a text from my friend, let’s refer to him as Seth. Seth said, “Call me, I have just been through a horrific ordeal.”
Seth can be a bit of a drama king (as all of my favorite people are) so I was expecting something along the lines of “Pepsi products have overtaken my favorite restaurant and I’ll never recover.” I was instead treated to an absolutely, positively awful dating experience.
Now, I’ve been on terrible dates. In fact, I once went on a double blind date where by the time I walked to the car, my friend who was with me gripped my hand and whispered, “Are you okay?” In the 30 seconds I had known my date I had already experienced trauma and she could feel it.
I get bad dates on a visceral level.
Don’t worry though, Seth’s story takes the cake.
Seth’s was a Tinder first date, which is really where I could begin and end this story, but I’ll continue, just for your sake and for my posterity’s sake, because I want my great grandchildren reading this.
Early on problem #1 came up: Seth’s date, Floyd, announced he was going to court in a few days on robbery charges.
You read that right.
Take a deep breath and prepare yourself for what’s next.
Problem #2 came in the form of Floyd asking Seth to take him to the mall where Floyd then proceeded to participate in what may or may not have been a drug deal.
Seth doesn’t know anything about drug deals. Seth isn’t equipped to handle these things!
I’m not equipped to handle these things!
More terribleness. More fake phone calls to get out of the date. Where are we?
Problem #3: On Seth’s way to drop off this terrible date/criminal, Floyd forced Seth to go into a gas station and buy him cigarettes claiming a lost wallet. As Seth feared for his life/sanity at this point he BOUGHT THE CIGARETTES AND DROVE THE MAN HOME.
Now, I may not be great at a lot of things, but one thing I am completely amazing at is being an audience for dating stories. I gasp at just the right points and I get REALLY REALLY loud and I shriek with glee and I shriek with pain and by the time someone has told me a story, we’ve both relived it, except this time it was better because there was more screaming involved.
While we were in the process of analyzing whether or not Floyd had planted drugs in Seth’s car/screaming, I said, “I’m never dating again.”
“What?” Seth said.
I repeated myself, “I know this is about you right now, but I’m making it about me and I’m never dating again.”
“Oh, OK,” Seth said. “Me neither.”
Happy Valentine’s Day, folks.