And now it's time for another round of stupid things I say on dates.
The next round of tapas came out and I knew that if I put one more bite of food in my mouth I would not be able to swallow it, but instead regurgitate it, along with the previous eight rounds of food, into my napkin.
And somehow try to make it look cute.
The Douchebag (he seems have to forgotten the Douchebag IncidentTM which makes his nickname even funnier now. Just don't tell him this) takes another bite (I debate puking some more) and asks me, "So do you watch any reality TV shows?"
I do, but this is not information that I'm going to cough up so soon. I'm going to be talking about books, not how I think Wife Swap is the greatest freakfest of all time.
He sees my hesitation and says, "I watch The Bachelor."
"Oh me too! But not for the romance. Blech." I take a finger and jam it in my mouth to demonstrate how much I don't watch the show for the romantic dates, but it reminded me too much of what my stomach was telling me. "No, everyone on that show has lost their minds! Every single one of those girls is crazy! I mean, hello, their 'Italian prince' is from Jersey!"
This launches a big discussion on how The Bachelor makes all these romantic dates, so when they come home and it's pizza and beer and Sunday football, of course the relationship is doomed for failure.
"Okay, so what was your most romantic moment in life?" I ask.
"Date number six with an ex."
"So nothing particular about the date? No ambiance? No special words?"
"Nope, we just seemed to mesh well."
I think this is a complete cop out, for the record.
"Well what about you?" he asks.
I didn't have an answer prepared. I sort of assumed that I haven't had that moment yet, although I have some pretty kick ass memories from previous men. I scanned my mind for moments where I wasn't naked when they occurred and came up with one.
"I was dating a musician and I was over at his apartment one night. We were drinking Schlitz Malt Liquor and..."
He began laughing-- full, body shaking laughs. "I thought I had a lame answer! Was there a joint somewhere in the background?!"
Apparently if your most romantic moment involves a musician and Schlitz, it doesn't count.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
8 comments:
Honestly? It wouldn't even count in my book, and I suck at romance.
[I suck so badly I had to re-propose, because my first "proposal" was sticking the ring on her finger in a crowded car - me in the back, she driving - on the way to a club. Hey, guess what, we're engaged, look at that... Still no Great Romantic Story the second time, but at least I got down on a knee and said some heartfelt words.]
On a different note: I guess the second date went better?
Yeah, it probably shouldn't count.
But it's all about feeling special right? And in that Schlitz Malt Liquor induced haze, I felt special.
I think it counts! I agree with how special and romantic you feel...Sometimes the more romantic you try to make it, just doesn't work- like a red beet soup with a cream heart on V-day, cute in theory and gross in taste!
My husband and I love watching the Bachelor too. It's hard to say why really. We like to make fun of the show and some of the stupid things they all do...
Anyway, I wanna hear the rest of your Schlitz/musician story...
Karen- red beet soup. Please tell me you don't know this from experience!
Momo- LOL. He got up off the floor and picked me up and proceeded to sing Roy Orbison's "Only with You" in my ear while he danced me around his apartment.
I felt pretty stinkin' special :)
umm, you're taking that from a guy called Douchebag? From what I've seen, romance LOVES malt liquor! And Jim Beam! And Tangueray! And umm, well, just booze in general. Yeah.
The RHS - That's a fact! Everyone knows Lloyd Dobler was hitting the hooch right before he had that boombox above his head! LOL!
That's a pretty freakin' romantic story! I love it!
And I agree with you and The RHS, romance can come from a bottle (or, at least, be helped along by it). ;0)
Post a Comment