I have made some mistakes in my life. It just so happens that a number of them happen on first dates.
I am walking the girl to her car and she opens her purse to get her car keys. It’s a tiny purse, more like a wallet really, and a bunch of cash is in there.
Me: “Oh you going to pay me?”
Her: (confused look, you know, because who says that, but she’s pretty quick so she says) “Pay you for what?”
That’s when … yep, that’s when I shimmied.
I told the Rachel Ray story. You know, where I got drunk and yelled, “Rachel Ray you’re an ass hole!”
In retrospect, this is not good “first-date material.”
Me: “Yeah, I just find racist jokes kinda funny.”
Then I rambled on for a few minutes trying to prove how I’m not racist, probably solidifying her opinion of me as being a racist.
I was talking about hanging out with friends who speak Spanish, and I don’t. I said that one night while hanging out with them I went ahead and translated their conversation, out loud, in front of them.
Me: “So one guy would say something and then I’d say, ‘oh your cat, his name is Whiskers, and he is your absolute favorite.’ And then the girl talked and I said, ‘oh but Whiskers, what an adorable name! In my country my cat’s name is Boots.’ … It’s pretty dumb that I do that, but it keeps me entertained.”
I don’t know if my date said this right away, or if it came later, but she compared me to Charlie Day, from It’s Always Sunny. Good date!
The translations thing, when that happened, was also funny because the Spanish-speaking folks just tuned me out. That was a pretty smart move on their part.
Her: “Ugh. And people with blogs.”
Me: (Silence. Probably a grin.)