Fast times on a first date

Fast times on a first date

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Always have a plan.

k2rider365: do you have any plans on friday night?

merediec : umm i don’t think so, why?

k2rider365: do you want to go to the movies?

merediec: i’ll have to ask my dad…

ring ring “Hey, dad? I have a ques­tion.”

Dad: “yeah?”

Me: “Blake just asked me to go to the movies on Friday night. Like on a date. Can I go?”

Dad: “First date! Whoa!” puts phone down, turns to barista at a Starbucks in Connecticut. I hear him say, “My 16-year-old daughter is ask­ing me if she can go on her first date… what do you think, should I let her?”

Barista: chuckle “yeah, totally!”

Friday night rolls around and I haven’t heard from Blake. Wait, that’s not completely true... I did see him in our physics lab that morning. We made awkward eye contact as he sheepishly confirmed plans for that night. We had mostly been talking via instant messenger, but this was nor­mal for our generation. I made sure to stay logged into my chat account in case there was a last minute message from k2rider365.

I didn’t particularly like Blake, but he was the first person to ask me out, and I was certain that if I said “no” this one time, I would never date again. That theory wasn’t actually far from the truth as through the years my sister and I were caught delivering what became the infamous “Overmy­er Rejection.”

Finally, around 8:30 that night, he rang the doorbell in his MIT hoodie and faded American Eagle jeans. Nothing said high school like Ameri­can Eagle, amirite? My older sister had fussed over my outfit earlier that evening and I had finally settled on my favourite pair of Hollister jeans and a fuchsia v-neck tee.

My father answered the door. I was standing out of sight in the stair­well and to my utter dismay, my dad said, “Hey Blake, nice to meet you. Why don’t we have a chat?” My dad is a confident, substantial man of significant stature. He’s been known to greet my sister’s boyfriends at the door with his Remington 22. He is also a pastor. Poor, reserved Blake had no idea what he was in for. It went something like this:

“Blake, I have a few tips for you. Let’s call them the three P’s of dat­ing. Number 1: Plan. When you ask a girl out, you need to have a plan. You need to know when you’re picking her up, where she lives, and what activity is going to take place that evening. Number 2: Phone. I don’t ever want you ever asking my daughter out on­line again. Number 3: Parents. Both sets of parents need to know what the plan is for the evening. So, Blake, what are the three P’s?”

“Plan, Phone, and Parents”

“Good”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Well, I’m not really sure… we’re supposed to meet some friends at the movies”

“Ok. Have her home by 11”

“Umm… I’m not sure we’ll make the early showing…so… umm…”

“Well, then she can’t go”

At this point I step in and save the day, “Let’s just go get some ice cream or something.”

Blake’s relief is visible.

We left and got into his dad’s 1999 Jeep Cherokee. A real chick-magnet, if you know what I mean. “I’m sorry about that,” I said. “That’s okay,” Blake replied while reversing out of the drive, “I just hope your dad doesn’t hate …” BOOM!

“&*%#@^&*^!!” We had backed into the telephone pole in my drive­way and Blake was cussing like a trucker. I had never heard him swear before. My virgin ears were practically bleeding. He quickly slipped from the driver’s seat to check the damage.

“It’s fine,” he said, and we left. I found out later that it was not fine; his dad was pretty ticked. Goodbye, chick-magnet.

We drove to Sarah’s house. We played air hockey for a while with Sarah and her boyfriend, Ben. I guess this was a double date? I wasn’t even really friends with these people, and Sarah’s house smelled like ferrets. It was too late to go out for ice cream; nothing is open past 9 pm in my antique-alley town. “Let’s go to the grocery store and get stuff to make ice cream sundaes,” I suggested. They agreed, so we drove to the grocery store and loaded up on sweets. When we got to the checkout line, Blake re­alized he had forgotten his wallet. He hung his head in embarrassment as I paid the cashier.

Back at Sarah’s house, I waited un­til 10:30, then said, “yeah, we should probably get going… I don’t want to miss my curfew” (though my house was only 5 minutes away). I think we talked about college applications and the SAT on the drive back. He actually apologized for how poorly the date went, as I made a mental note of the 2 P’s I needed to add to the list.

Here’s a quick recap. You might want to write these down:

1) Have a Plan

2) Make sure both Parents know the plan

3) Call on the Phone

4) Watch out for the Pole

5) Always Pay

De-classifieds.

De-classifieds.

Will you be mine?

Will you be mine?