I spilled out of my moving Uber Pool – my hair still damp as a result of my decision to forgo blow-drying it in exchange for 20 minutes of extra snooze-time. It looked like I’d gotten my makeup kit done by Helen Keller: a product of my driver’s heavy foot combined with my feeble attempt at applying mascara whilst simultaneously scrolling through instagram. I felt frazzled and feared my bosses reaction to my tardiness. I glanced at my watch as I entered the elevator: 8:43am. 13 minutes late – shitballs. I skimmed through my mental Rolodex of excuses and landed quickly on one I hadn’t used in
a few days quite some time: “I got locked out of my house after my spin class because my roommate had to borrow my keys last night and forgot to leave them under the mat for me. I am SOOOO annoyed,” I would say. DONE. When it doubt – blame it out.
I was so preoccupied with my debacle that I failed to notice the super-hot bike messenger likely 8 years my junior on the elevator.
“What floor?” he asked, as a bead of sweat rolled down his tanned temple. I thought about how big his penis was as I surveyed his body and felt myself wanting him to press “DOOR CLOSE” and shove me against the wall and OH MY FUCKING GOD I NEED TO GET LAID.
“Who? What happened?” I responded as I sifted through my bag for lip gloss.
“Uhh..what number floor are you on?”
“3-thirty-3. 13. I mean, just 3. Yeah, 3…it’s 3.”
I felt my face turn red as I struggled to maintain my composure. The next half minute felt like the longest seconds of my life and consisted of me honing in on the elevator buttons intently so as to avoid any eye contact/small talk with messenger boy (my go-to ‘vator conduct).
Why am I telling this mildly embarrassing, anticlimactic story? Because my elevator blunder is the closest thing to a first date I’ve had in awhile and it gave me the idea for this post. And that might be the most depressing sentence I’ve ever constructed.
1. It’s okay to text your date and ask him how tall he is so you can determine whether or not you should wear heels. In fact, it’s encouraged. If he responds with anything under 5’6, respond back with “awww, wittle itty bitty pookie bear! want me to call ahead to make sure the restaurant has high-chairs?” This will show him that you’re a nurturer and would be a good mother. Then, he’ll think of sex! YAY.
2. A lull in conversation is likely given the fact that you and your date have just met so it’s important to come prepared with questions so as to stifle any uncomfortable silences. Some examples are:
a. Are you gay?
b. Where do toll booth workers park?
c. Do I spot a chin hair on your forehead?
d. How do snakes mate? I mean, they like, already are a penis. Right?
e. Did you know babies are born without kneecaps? How do you suppose they play soccer or kneel at church? Assuming the baby is a Catholic of course.
4. At the end of every story you tell him always make sure to look around in a paranoid manner, then creepily lean forward as you make intense eye contact and whisper, “and remember, we never had this conversation.”
5. Hum Radiohead’s “Creep” every time he tells a story about his little nieces or nephews.
6. If the waiter fucks up your order ask him or her if he/she “would like a spanking.”
7. Ask him if he’s ever had chicken pox. If he says no, ask him if he would like some as you begin to furiously itch like a monkey.
8. The subject of pets has a 47% chance of coming up. If he says he’s a dog person you say you’re a cat person. Then immediately call up your mediator to come and help “settle this dispute once and for all.”
9. Don’t blink for the entire date. If you slip up make sure you stand up, stomp your feet and whine “Damnit, now I have to start all over again!”
10. Ask him if he would like a bite of your foie gras. If he declines, step outside and pace. If he comes after you to ask what’s wrong respond with, “I just didn’t like the energy in there.”