I have a date! Yay!
I never understand why I get so excited whenever I have a first date. I mean, in best case scenario I am going to acquire the old ball and chains (or is it balls and chain) and in worst case scenario I will end up hacked to pieces in little pretty ditches with yellow wildflowers. Mostly, I just sit there, trying to look interested and interesting, charming and charmed, and choking my little voice to death. Because there is nothing worse that having somebody pouring out their sob stories, while my little voice keeps piping up: “Gosh, he’s got bigger boobs than I do!”
But I do like going out, and I do get excited before a first date. I even have a whole set of rules that help me contain it like:
1. Never buy new clothes for a first date. Chances are you will feel sorry for the waste of a wonderful shirt or a new set of pumps. It is better to have a sort of uniform, such as buttoned blouse that can be opened further or closed to the neck depending on the hotness or sanity of your date. For boys, a clean shirt will do. Please remember to remove or tape in the tags. Returning items after wearing them spells only one thing: CHEAP!
2. Never try “new” looks on the first date. As enlighted as the other person sounded on the phone/messenger/bar last night/as described by your elderly aunt, it is never a good idea to try your fabio new hairdo or a seven inch rednails decorated with the black two-headed eagle on them. you might find yourself in a blog.
3. Do not pick up the phone when you are in the restroom, or in bed with your current ex. there is nothing worse than trying to woo sb with the wrong background music.
4. etc. I like making up rules, but I am too lazy to follow them.
But I digress.
I am a bit panicky. The panty hose does not fit, I do not have a new pack of tissues, my hair is coiling itself and sticking straight on all directions, absolutely refusing to come down. I also poked myself in the eye with the eyeliner. Top of the line my butt.
I finally leave for work, kicking myself that I made a date for Monday. It is actually not that bad for a first date. I have had dates at all times of the day, including a 8.30AM on Sunday morning. Don’t ask me how that went. Suffice to say that my “date” was still mentally asleep, and only woke up once to comment on my lack of make-up.
Monday says, I’d like to meet you but I am not knocking myself with a feather.
Monday says, I have to work tomorrow so dazzle me before I fall asleep.
Monday says, Your wallet is safe (for the moment) and I am only interested on getting to know you (but picking up the check is part of the process)
Monday says, It is supposed to be very casual, but you should still fix your hair and change your underwear.
Monday says, Stop talking to yourself and go back to work. Oh, actually that is my coworker.
I have a date! Yay!