I had a date a few weeks ago. Actually, two dates. One guy. It took me so long to write about it because I couldn’t find anything interesting to say. They weren’t bad, they weren’t great, and nothing weird or remarkable happened. He didn’t have B.O. He didn’t scream at the waiter. He didn’t rub his nipples while singing “Shoo, Fly, Don’t Bother Me.” It was just pretty standard.
So instead of writing a whole date recap with paragraphs and stuff, I’ll just do a quick-n-dirty Q & A type thing. With myself.
What was his name?
Honestly, I don’t remember. That’s how memorable it was. Although it’s entirely possible I’m suffering from stage one dementia.
What color was he?
White. Like Mitt Romney.
Did he have hair?
Yes. Not as much as Mitt Romney. But I do recall hair.
Where did you go?
First date, drinks; second date, dinner.
Did you kiss him?
On the second date, I did.
And was he a good kisser?
Actually, he was a very good kisser.
So what was the problem?
I dunno. There was just no spark. No zha-zha-zhu. No breaking into song in the middle of the parking garage. No urge to text him in the middle of the night asking him to sire eight babies with me so we could be just like Jon and Kate before the Ed Hardy shirts. So obviously, it just wasn’t going to work out.
Did you see his penis?
How about the balls?
Um, no. If I saw the balls, don’t you think I would’ve seen the penis and vice versa?
Not necessarily. Not if you were standing behind him and he bent over and it was cold.
Right. Well, that didn’t happen.
Okay. No dick or balls. How about his furry spider?
No, I did not see his asshole. In fact, his pants stayed on the entire time so there was no way I could’ve seen any of his man parts, got it?
You could have if they were invisible pants. Or made of Saran Wrap.
Now you’re just being silly.
Well, it sounds pretty boring.
I know! That’s why we’re doing this whole dog and pony show instead of writing a normal post!
So then what?
I e-mailed him and told him I got back together with my ex.
You know, you probably should’ve given him another shot.
Yeah, maybe, but it’s too late now so quit riding me, motherfucker. Besides, he responded saying he already met someone else and they were getting along great.
What a dick!
So you got anyone else lined up?
No, I think I’m going to refrain from dating for a while and look into adopting a rabbit.
Why a rabbit? Why not a cat, like a normal person?
Duh! Because I don’t want to be a crazy cat lady. (Although it’s a shame, because I actually do adore cats. They’re so funny.)
So you’re going to be a crazy rabbit lady?
No, dum dum. There is no such thing as a crazy rabbit lady.
There’s about to be.
Go fuck yourself.
Alright, let’s go.
What? Oh, I get it.
What about all that round poop?
Hey, I’m no fecalpheliac, sicko. Oh, you mean the rabbits? I’m fascinated by it! How does it come out in such perfectly round little balls?
Rabbits chew a lot, you know. What if it chewed off your lips while you were asleep?
[Pause.] Well… I suppose that would be a risk.
So… this Q&A thing wasn’t really all that quick.
[Looks back at above dialog.] Whoops, I suppose it wasn’t. But it was kinda dirty, thanks to our dick/balls/spider exchange. Thanks for that.