I have this friend who so far has been notorious for setting me up on the worst “dates” known to mankind. I love her to death and I’d place my life in her hands, but she’s been so far off base with the set-up thing that it’s unfathomable. So far we’re quite a few set ups in and each story is better than the last. I’d love to share them all with you but for now let’s just focus on these two.
The Jean Jacketed Curly Headed Ginger
Somewhere around my third semester of college I started to realize that I had no idea what I was doing there besides drinking. It was at this moment that I decided to take a step back and move back home to be a ‘Stay at Home Daughter’ for a while. So, when things started to get tense between my roommates and me (a.k.a my mom and dad) I would take a weekend away and visit my ever so lovely “match making” friend.
One weekend while I was visiting she had introduced me to the guy she was seeing and he was a rather attractive fellow who was a Marine or a part of the SWAT team, I can’t remember his actual title but it was something that’s associated with pure raw sexiness. I remember thinking I bet he has some attractive friends she could set me up with, so I told her to get me the hook-up.
It was a Saturday night and her beau had wrangled himself a friend so we could all go out to dinner. From the moment the two showed up at my friend’s apartment I was already disappointed. He was the last thing I would have ever expected him to bring, but yet here he was and there I was. I’m almost a 100% positive he didn’t have curly hair nor was he a Ginger, but for some reason that’s exactly how I remember him. He also wasn’t wearing a jean jacket, but he told some story about a time when he was wearing a jean jacket and that always stuck in my mind. The description I have given on him is completely false, but for the life of me I can’t remember what he actually looked like.
I wasn’t too awfully upset though, because if truth be told he did have a pretty good personality. He was hilarious, but I find that most of the time when a guy is overly funny he’s making up for what he lacks in looks, or size — if ya know what I mean. Anyway, he pretty much stole the show that night in telling stories and cracking jokes. Like I said he turned out to be hilarious, but there was still something about him that I just couldn’t quite put my finger on, but whatever it was, I didn’t like it.
Dinner proceeded according to plan and we went back to my friend’s apartment to just hang out, relax, and watch some football. It was at this time that the Jean Jacketed Curly Headed Ginger apparently got some bad case of ADHD. I have no idea where it came from or why it started but it did and it was obnoxious. His gum chomping rivaled that of Bo Pelini. There was finger tapping and foot tapping, and it was all just too much. I could hardly sit there for a second longer.
We were sitting on a futon and the damn thing was shaking worse than Michael J. Fox during an earthquake (stop acting like I’m the first one to crack a Michael J. Fox joke. Get over yourself.) I could hear my brain wiggling around inside of my head and for a split second I almost lost my cool. I felt like I was riding The Beast and the whiplash was just as bad.
My friend was quietly laughing on the couch when she finally turned towards her date and said “I think your friend might be ready leave.” It was on this queue that they both got up and left.
This tragic set up had finally ended and she and I laughed about it for hours.
Chicago Bound with a Mute
One weekend a few years ago my friend asked me if wanted to go to Chicago for the weekend and see a Cubs game with her and her boyfriend. I’d never been to Chicago and never seen a Cubs game so it only made sense that I would take this opportunity and go, so I did.
I vividly remember her promising that she had told her boyfriend to bring a really fun and attractive friend, so you can imagine my confusion when we showed up and he was neither of those two things. He wasn’t much of a talker and he was skinnier than an angel hair pasta noodle.
Our journey towards Chicago had begun.
My friend, her boyfriend, and I were all talking and laughing. We were having a really good time when I noticed he was just sitting there, interjecting a laugh or two every once in a while, but for the most part he was dead silent. I could hear the crickets.
I honestly don’t have a whole lot to report back on this situation because there wasn’t a whole lot said. I spent a weekend with my best friend and her boyfriend and some guy who couldn’t mutter a single syllable.
The only picture I have to paint for you is this:
We’re at the Cubs game and it’s early spring so it’s still a little chilly outside. Thunder Clouds started to roll in and the storm that took place was less of thunderstorm and more of a monsoon. When the rain had finally let up, and it was more of a light downpour as opposed to a torrential downpour, the game finally started.
The four of us were in the bleachers, in our rain coats, sitting elementary style, girl/boy/girl/boy. I could hear my friend and her boyfriend just laughing and chatting up a storm having what seemed to be a grand old time and here I was stuck in the pouring down rain, cold, and sitting next to a mute. I was envious. Not to mention I was at a baseball game: America’s most boring pastime to spectate if liquor isn’t involved. I most definitely needed a shot or 6.
There were a couple of times I tried to talk to him but after asking the first question and receiving nothing more than a nod I thought “to hell with it, why even bother?” I was miserable. Not only was it raining and I was sitting next to Harpo Marx, but the game went into 5 extra innings. There was actually a point where I pulled my arms and head into my rain coat like a turtle and just sat there. Yes, it seems like a socially awkward thing to do, but there was really no way I could make this anymore socially awkward than he already had.
I sat in my little tent and started praying that the gracious God above would either take me away from the agony or give this man a voice box.
Needless to say I didn’t talk to either of these two guys ever again and I think the feeling of agony and misery was pretty mutual.