Jezebel has an interesting post about the dangers of getting too excited after a first date – and I went in expecting the writer to talk about what I usually do – have an amazing first date and then mentally plan your life together, wedding and all.
My dad and stepmother are visiting this weekend – at some of the restaurants I’ve taken them, my dad has asked me, “how did you find out about this place?” And my response was mostly, “Oh, I had a bad first date here.” It is so much easier to have bad first dates, apparently, because I’ve had tons of them.
One guy started talking about our wedding; um, HELLO, you can think it but don’t say it out loud – even I know that.
One guy launched into, “so, how and when did your last relationship end?” NOT A FIRST DATE CONVERSATION, BUDDY.
I could go on and on but I won’t bore you with the endless, inane details of how Heidi Flugendugelgurgenplotz successfully mated a bull with a duck! (if you don’t get the reference, I can’t help you)
I guess when I went to read the post I assumed it would not end the way it did – that this particular chickadee imagined a life of meaningless sex with a newly divorced man and it turned out he didn’t have the emotional capacity and his apartment was a dump.
Don’t I feel silly.