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SOPHIE
So far, this dating thing has not gone all that well.
I have had Milo, a fast-talking city guy who seemed nice enough as long as he wasn’t trying to look up my dress. How many times did a man need to tie his shoes in the course of ten minutes? On the plus side, he did know quite a bit about fashion which got us into a friendly discussion over the hottest new designers, trends, man buns, Crocs, and men’s rompers. We left things on a friendly note about maybe meeting at Sea World for a real date, which seemed not only random but a bit far to go for a simple first date. On the plus side, Max and Abby (Milo’s Bulldog) played well with each other.
Ending thoughts: He got points for fashion debate, cute dog, and effort. Huge minus for perv factor. Crossed off list.
The second man I met was Wes. He had a pretty Pointer named Styx who Max completely ignored. Of course that may have been due to the fact that Max was kept busy sniffing the air to find out where some awful stench was coming from. (I finally realized the smell was from Wes himself, who apparently thought farting in public, and in front of a woman on a first date was the sexy thing to do.) He would simultaneously stare at my feet, ask if I liked bass fishing, and let one rip.
Ending thoughts: Points for a nice smile. Points reached negative status after the third riff winged from the seat of his jeans. Not to mention the self-tanner fiasco he had going on. Ugh. Crossed off list.
I felt sorry for guy number three whose name was Todd, right up to the moment he tried to cop a feel. At first I thought he might have a severe obsession with checking himself, like maybe he was really self-conscious that his ‘package’ might suddenly be stolen by some bizarre penis burglar. But then he took my hand, slapped a twenty into my palm, and moved in on my breasts. Thankfully I saw his hand before it made contact, twisted his wrist until his knees buckled, and thrust the twenty back at him. Then I used what I’d heard my brothers say. “Didn’t your mother teach you that if you keep pulling on it, it’s going to come off in your hand?” And that ended that date. I didn’t even have a chance to pet his dog.
Ending thoughts: Slimy skeezeball. He was lucky I didn’t have Jack arrest him.
I looked up in awe as number four approached. He didn’t have a neck. And his arms didn’t (couldn’t?) hang straight down. I was a bit taken aback by the little men seeming to try and escape from his biceps. His latspread was wider than my couch.
“I’m Sheldon,” he said and pumped my hand. I felt as though I should put more behind my handshake, so I kinda squeezed. He yelped. Oops. I felt bad and knelt down to meet his dog. “That’s Zelda,” he said, winging his hand around like I’d broken it, and I muttered, “Hi Zelda,” and gave her a pat on the head.
Max looked at Sheldon funny, probably wondering what all those ripples were about. “So,” I said. “Read anything good lately? Or maybe you like movies more?” He titled his head at me much like Max does when he’s confused. I gave him a hint. “Books? Movies? Thor?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, and then went “hehehe” and pulled his elbows in, went limp wristed, and flapped his hands like a deranged bird.
“Really, well, um, great! Tolstoy? Marvel? DC?”
“Oh man, movies, def. Jurassic Park for sure. I like a good T-Rex.” He gave me a double wink. “And the Marvel stuff, too. Ironman is like the man of iron.”
“Okay, wow, great!” I said, wondering if he’d ever read a single book. But maybe that was considered dating profiling or stereotyping so I changed direction. “You, uh, must spend a lot of time at the gym.”
“Yeah, hey, you’re pretty smart. I mean, wow, guessing that right off the bat without me having to take off my shirt or anything.” He paused, seemed to remember something and added, “I don’t have any mirrors or anything. And I, you know, have a lock on my fridge.”
“Really? That’s just, well, fascinating. How do you shave without a mirror?” I thought it best to not even touch on the locked up refrigerator comment.
“Oh dude, I wax. Everywhere.” Another wink, wink.
Quick, Sophie, think! “Wax, really? I, personally, get floured. Much kinder than wax, plus it exfoliates. You should try it!”
Uffa! Crossed off list.
The next guy looked like drama and a headache. I might act like a fainting goat and quietly tip over. Instead I behaved, introduced myself to Eugene, and was careful about shaking his hand. He had a cute Beagle named Plato. I wasn’t quite sure what happened to his eyebrows, but he wore a look of constant surprise. Plus, he wouldn’t make eye contact and seemed to sweat a lot. More even than the weather called for. Like he was really nervous. Also, he stammered a lot, which was odd since he hadn’t stammered with the woman on the other side of me. I thought about lifting his wallet to see if there was some medical problem we should know about but instead gave him a quick hug.
He backed away so fast, he slipped in the grass and fell on his butt. Max and Plato went directly to him. “Lady, please! Don’t let your dog hurt me!”
“Max? He won’t hurt you, I promise. It’s okay.” Scrambling for a topic, any topic, I thought of what my brothers discussed and asked, “So, what’s your favorite mobster movie?”
He scrambled to his feet, grabbed his dog, and scuttled toward the exit all the while looking over his shoulder at me. All-righty then. I wondered if it was something I’d said, but all I’d said was my name before he just panicked. I looked at Max and he shrugged. Another date bites the dust. Crossed off list.
Five down and two to go. Three, if I counted Jack. Jeez, I was very close to getting a complex.
Wait a minute. Wait just a merry washbasin minute. I slapped my hand against my head.
Jack! That louse! That weasel-eared saboteur! I was going to KILL him! I hadn’t said a single word to any of the women who’d been salivating all over Jack, had I? No, I had not. I’d behaved. Followed the rules. Minded my manners.
Fine. If he wanted to sabotage my dates, then he was going to have to make it up later. In spades.
Date number six introduced himself as Roger. His dog’s name was Boner. Boner the Bloodhound. Jeez, guys were so obvious. Anyway. I sidled up close to Roger who smelled distinctively of reefer, and nearly offered him my sunglasses. Red eyes clashed with electric blue dreadlocks.
The first thing he did after he introduced himself was stare hard at my chest and offer up a, “Pip pip, cheerio!”
I cleared my throat. “So, you’re British then?” Of course he wasn’t. He didn’t sound the least bit British. It did make me wonder if Jack had told him I had a Mary Poppins fantasy.
Roger giggled. “Nah, dude, like I’m so completely Americano. Born here and everything. I’m total rubbish with accents, right? Not that I have a problem with moles or anything. How many do you have, brah? Have you counted them? Can I see? And don’t tell me to bugger off, cause that cool dude said you were totally into buggering off. Yeah?”
Max rolled over and threw his paws in the air. Maybe he was getting a contact high or something.
Jeez, the guy wasn’t just baked, he was completely blazed. He was all “Whoa,” and “Chill” and “Wass happenin!”
I put my arm around his shoulders, hoping he didn’t fall flat on his face and take me down with him. “Listen, Bro. Peace and love and everything’s sick and sweet, yeah? But, I’m not sure you could handle the moles. I’m not even sure they’re not contagious. Maybe you should tell Boner, I said like woof and stuff. Then cheerio, old chap.” I sent him on his way and scratched Max’s tummy. Stoner and Boner crossed off list.
And last, at least until Jack came up, was a guy named Kramer and his Dalmatian, Cosmo. Obviously a Seinfeld fan, I hoped he didn’t whip out a cigar.
He didn’t. Instead he whipped out a pair of sunglasses, stuck them on, and started playing air guitar, humming a beat, and wowed me with a great smile.
Then, (and I thought I was going to die because, hello, awesome smile, great voice, and who doesn’t love a guy who can look so cool playing an air guitar?), he took my hand and started singing Oh, Pretty Woman. Who wouldn’t love that?
It took about five seconds for me to swish my skirt and play along. I started dancing, Kramer twirled me, Max barked, and before I knew what was happening, everyone else was singing and dancing along, too. It was a total flash mob. Even the dogs got into the spirit and started dancing and woofing it up.
Jack made his way over with a big, goofy grin on his face and everyone switched partners. Kramer nodded to Jack and I wondered what that was all about. Then everything left my head as Jack dipped me. Everyone was dancing and clapping and laughing and I was finally starting to really enjoy myself.
Max barked and I ruffled his fur.
Max barked again and pawed the ground. “Dance, Max, more dance!” I said, laughing.
Max barked one more time and looked over his shoulder. “Come and dance, Max!” I said, still stepping this way and that. Max barked again and then...
He turned.
And took off at a dead run.
He ran flat out toward the fence. My world went into slow motion.
I grabbed Jack’s arm and yelled, “Max! Noooo!” My heart stopped as I watched in wonder and fear as Max sailed over the six-foot fence.
#PrettyWomanBeatsMissionImpossible
#ThisIsMissionImpossible
#MySpideySensesNeverTingled
#NotOnce
#WhatTheHeckMax??