First date awkwardness

There isn't anything in this world more awkward that a first date.

I believe it was Jerry Seinfeld who once said,

"What is a date, really, but a job interview that lasts all night? The only difference between a date and a job interview is that in not many job interviews is there a chance you'll end up naked at the end of it"

Good stuff.

But what you may or may not know about me, is that I take a sick pleasure in awkward moments of all kinds.

Like most people, I used to be embarrassed and weird when confronted with an awkward situation. Whether it was a couple fighting near me, or even being called out on a white lie I had told, it was awful.

But lately I have learned to absolutely savor awkwardness, and the moments when it hangs in the air so thick I can almost taste it.

I experienced the most awkward night of my life a mere two and a half months ago, which I will delve into at a later date.

Back to the topic of first dates.

I went out with a young lady recently, and things seemed to go smoothly.
We went for dinner and drinks, and I was throwing out zingers like my life depended on it.

After a pleasant meal, and a trip to a local watering hole for a few cocktails, we came to the most awkward part of the first date: the goodbye.

If the first date is the most awkward thing in the world, and the goodbye is the most awkward part of the first date, then it must hold true that the first date goodbye is the most awkward thing in the world.

And it is the one awkward moment that I take no pleasure in, because I almost always get it wrong.

I trust my instincts on many things: in my job, writing, comedy, music, but women are not one of those things.

I don't know if it is because I can't detach myself and look at it objectively (at least, until it is far too late), but it is what it is.

And that comes into play at the end of any first date.

My imagination is such that I can imagine scenarios from her wanting to take a detour to Vegas to get married before I drop her off, to her typing in '911' on her cell phone and waiting for the right moment to hit send.

So I never get it right.

We're on our way back from the bar, and since I am driving, I am wearing my glasses. An extraneous detail, you think? Well, go fuck yourself! Who's telling this story for God's sake? You or me?

Sorry, but these people....they just get my goat.

Anyways, I'm driving, and I pull up to her place, which happens to be a townhouse with several shared parking spots in front.

Being that one of them is open, I pull right in, and we are at go time.

After the obligatory, "I had a great time tonight," "Yeah, me too" (both of those said by me, sometimes I talk to myself when I'm nervous), I go for it.

I lean in, hopefully for a peck, and get the full tongue on tongue action, followed by the extended hand hold, which usually indicates that it's not over yet.

So I pull back, and unfortunately, I've still got my glasses on, and they got a little smudged. Next to me, milady is doing the thing that chicks usually do after an impromptu make-out session, she smooths her hair, and takes a deep breath.

She notices my glasses askew on face face, and mumbles a weak apology.

And that, my friends, is where it all goes south.

Because I made a grab to clean off my glasses, with these special glasses moist towelettes to clean it off, and when I grabbed the package, I told milady, "looks like I'll need one of these then."

Seems innocent enough, right?

Here's is what a glasses cleaning wipe looks like:


Look familar? Maybe like a.....


Yeah. They look similar especially at night, in the dark.

So to her, I was so satisfied with the way the kiss went, that I had immediately assumed a prophylactic was in order.

Needless to say, the date ended rather quickly. My phone calls, text messages, e-mails, and occasional visits at 3 a.m. have been met with silence and the occasional call to the police.

Oh, well. You live, you learn.

Funny epilogue:

When sending the picture of the condom to myself, I accidentally sent it to the wrong e-mail address, and it wasn't returned as and invalid e-mail.

Which means someone got a random message with a picture of a condom.

I hope it's a chick.