When we last left our hero yesterday, he was only 15 minutes into this nightmare. Let’s see how the rest of it plays out!
7:23 PM – Our food arrives with the hope that my dining companion might be too preoccupied with her salad to continue to speak. My hope is quickly destroyed. She began talking about her last job and why she was fired from it. According to her, she was working as an office temp when there was some type of altercation between herself and her manager. The reason that she was let go was because “He was too much of a sissy to fight like a man”. I still have no idea what that meant and I often times find myself lying awake at night pondering what exactly happened.
I tried to change the subject by discussing films. Did she have a favorite film? If so, what was it? As it turns out she was a fan of the cinema. Her current favorite movie? Oliver Stone’s “Natural Born Killers”. I also enjoyed the film but for reasons quite different from hers. Instead of citing Stone’s use of blunt violence, mixed media, different film stock and the sometimes shocking juxtaposition of the horrors of American suburban life with the colorful, media-happy world of the 1990’s, her reason was because “Mallory Knox is fucking HAWT!” She then went on to quotes EVERY SINGLE LINE of dialog uttered by Juliet Lewis in the film.
7:26 PM – “HOW SEXY AM I NOW, FUCKER?”, she screamed as she stood in her chair, one foot planted centimeters away from my empty plate. In order to calm things down I decided to switch the subject yet again. This time I decided to learn about her family. I offered that I had three sisters. She said that the only family she had was her mother, with whom she lived. She went in to detail about the fights she and her mother would have on a daily basis and how her mother didn’t understand the stress that she dealt with in everyday life. This, she explained, was why it was vital that she be able to continue her strict regimen of Prozac and Vodka. I could see the storm clouds gathering in her eyes as she went on.
“And my momma just don’t understand how tough it is! If she would just get a better job then maybe I wouldn’t have to collect unemployment! I mean, I have to remember to turn in that paperwork once a WEEK!”
The dam holding back her emotions finally burst and she began crying, turning her eye makeup into dark rivers of grief.
7:30 PM – The helpful and courteous waiter appeared at the table looking resplendent in his branded apron and shit-eating grin. “Can I get you two anything else?” he offered.
I leaned over and said, “Just the check please.” He looked at me, looked at the sobbing train wreck in the opposite chair, turned his head, looked me in the eye and said, “Hmmm, not yet.” and again vanished into the kitchen.
7:35 PM – After ruining two napkins, I was finally able to stop the flow of tears coming from my date. The waiter, realizing that his last stunt more than likely cost him a tip, returned with the check. I quickly gave him my card which he ran with haste. As I signed the tab, my date said, “So what are we doing now?” as if nothing had happened.
7:45 PM – As I pulled my car on to her street, she said “You’re not gonna call me back – I can tell.”
Not wanting to hurt her feelings (or risk having her go feral while still in my car) I said, “I just don’t think I’m the right guy for you.”
I decided not to enumerate the reasons for this decision, those being that I own no clothes designed by Ed Hardy, I had no illegitimate children, I was not training to be an MMA fighter and, despite being a huge fan of the show “Breaking Bad”, I had absolutely no idea how to cook meth.
When we pulled in to her driveway she began crying again. “Why is the date over? It’s not even 8:00 and I’m not even drunk yet!”
I exited the vehicle and opened the passenger side door. Partly because I’m a gentleman and partly to give her the hint that it was time to GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CAR. She stood in front of me crying, her head in her hands. Not being a monster, I decided to give her a hug. As soon as I pulled her close to me she raised her head and SUNK HER TEETH INTO MY NECK. (You did not mis-read that) – The crazy girl FUCKING BIT ME. Thankfully, she did not break the skin. As soon as she released her grip she ran full-speed into her garage, screaming “FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!”
As I got in my car my cell phone rang – it was my rescue call. I answered, staring off into space like Martin Sheen at the end of “Apocalypse Now”.
“Hey man, how’s your date going?”, asked my friend. The only thing I could mutter was, “The horror…the horror.”
Epilogue: My morning routine is fairly boring. Wake up, check my email, read the news while enjoying a cup of coffee, check my phone for messages – very pedestrian stuff. Every now and then, when I pick up my phone while pouring my coffee, I will find text messages sent between 1:00-5:00 AM from a number labelled “Do Not Answer”. Sometimes they’re nude pictures of splayed labia, sometimes they’re violent threats. Each time, I slowly reach up and rub the spot on my neck which has suddenly began throbbing…
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