During the holidays we often get nostalgic. We visit with friends and family and talk about all the memories the season reminds us of. Although it may not be relevant and may have nothing to do with friends and family, I have a story to share. I bet it will be more interesting to hear than when Uncle Ned gets drunk at Christmas and tells his gangrene story.
I was seeing an otherwise wholesome girl when she informs me that she’s contracted an infection in her special area. Being new to the city, I figure it is time to start the search for a local doctor. I find a well-recommended family practitioner just a few miles from my apartment and make an appointment.
Fun with Science!
The office reception area looks new. I sign in using a fancy wireless touchpad and flirt with the cute receptionists while I’m waiting for the doctor. Nothing about the experience so far suggests anything out of the ordinary… until the nurse calls me back and I see how tiny the office is. The entire practice consists of the waiting room, the area behind the counter, and a walk-in closet on the side that doubles as the examination room.
I sit on one of those beds with the disposable paper and wait. As I’m watching the various people move about the office it dawns on me that “family practice” is literal in this particular instance. The father is the doctor, his wife is the nurse, and his two collegiate daughters are the receptionists and assistants.
Normally this wouldn’t be a concern, but throughout the entire examination no one feels the need to shut the examination room door. Oh well, I’m not bashful.
Doc: So what are we here today for?
Ken: A girl I was seeing says she thinks she has an infection. I thought I’d look into it, see what my situation is.
Doc: How long have you been with this girl?
Ken: Probably about a week.
Doc: And how often have you had intercourse?’
Ken: Eight times in two days?
I guarantee that mother and daughters heard every word of the examination. I even made eye-contact a few times while I’m delivering the details of my personal life. It might have been awkward for him, knowing that earlier I was fraternizing with his daughters, but it certainly didn’t bother me. And I don’t know what he would have to worry about anyway; the results came back negative. Unless the man doubts the accuracy of his own work, he knows I’m clean.
Maybe when I go back for my yearly physical I’ll ask the cuter girl out. Dinner with the parents can’t be any more awkward than knowing they have access to your blood-test results.
Let me paint the scene leading up to “the incident”.
We are in our living room and it is 3:20pm on a Saturday. We’re watching TV. The roomie gets up to use the bathroom when the following conversation occurs:
Her: “Kenneth! There is porn playing on your computer!”
Me: “Really? How embarrassing.”
I will admit that I like to make fun of the dating situations I find myself in. It is almost always my date’s fault,
but there are rare occasions where I’ve had my own blunders. Here are my top fuck-ups.
There was a tie for which high school story was more embarrassing, so let’s hear both. After school my high school girlfriend came over to my house unexpectedly and I was home alone. Our house had way too many windows, all of which were routinely left open. Even the front door was glass. I suppose we were fans of natural light. I happened to be on the ground floor when she rang the doorbell, dressed in nothing but my whitey-tighties. I’d like to say the situation was akin to Tom Cruise in Risky Business, but that would be giving 17-year-old-me more credit than I deserved. In any case, there is no way she missed my pasty, scrawny ass covered in skin-tight cotton briefs streaking up the stairs to grab my jeans.
The same year, I screwed up Easter. I wanted to surprise her by filling her locker with candy, but I pretend to be a creative guy, so I couldn’t stop there. I made a candy “bomb” in her locker; I even left exposed yet deliciously chewy candy wires hanging outside the front to make the illusion more complete. I still wonder which pissed her off more - breaking into her locker or having to sit in those chairs waiting while school officials escalated the issue. I didn’t want to ask at the time, she was busy glaring holes in my skull.
I was eating lunch in a food court and I zoned out, staring off into space. You know how you can do that and then you realize you are actually staring at a person without realizing it? Well, I was doing that, and she was cute. I quickly looked away. Later, I turned to look at her again and saw her staring back at me so I gave her a smile, then went to drink from my soda. The lid wasn’t on properly and it popped off. Soda poured all down the front of my shirt.
There was one girl one summer who continued to catch my eye. I wasn’t very confident so it took the entire summer to work up the courage to approach her. I shored up my courage and decided there was absolute nothing that would stop me from following through - no matter how badly it went. I wrote my number on a piece of paper and approached her, completely unaware that she was holding hands with another guy.
I launched into my speech about how I liked her and asked is she would like to go out with me at some point. She interrupted me to tell me that the guy she was with was her boyfriend. He remained silent and her rebuttal did little to dissuade me. I held out the piece of paper and said “well here’s my number if it doesn’t work out” and refused to withdraw my hand until she took it.
During a particularly passive-aggressive phase of my life I was involved in an unexpected breakup with a girl. Early in the day she messaged me and said that we needed to talk after her shift. Unfortunately the words “We need to talk” never means “I don’t think we’re having enough sex”. In fact, it usually means “after my shift tonight, I am breaking up with you”.
Sure enough, she arrived at my place after work slightly tipsy and very emotional unbalanced. We sat on a bench in awkward silence before I finally began to fill in the words for her. “You want more freedom and don’t like the commitment”, I said. She nods. “You feel like we aren’t really the same and I’m keeping you from doing things you enjoy.” Again, she nods. This pattern continued for an entire conversation while I broke up with myself. Finally, to end the evening she uttered the most complex thought she had managed to express: “If I ever have to breakup with someone again, I hope it’s like this.”
When I first started dating online I struck up frequent phone calls with a very awesome girl. She was attractive and quick-witted, two qualities I favor. Her Facebook page was filled with great pictures and every conversation had me laughing. Eventually, she invited me to hang out with her and her friends at a bar. It was across town but I told her I’d be there.
Somewhere near the halfway point I took a wrong exit. While attempting to retrace my steps I managed to enter a part of the freeway that was closed for construction. As the only car on six dark and empty lanes I spent the next 30 minutes trying to get off the freeway without crushing cones and detour signs and discovered that the only way to get back to that part of town would be a 45 minutes detour. I didn’t make it and she and I never spoke again.
It was the best date I had ever been on, and the girl was amazing. I had an extra ticket to a concert for two of our favorite bands. It started raining and the venue descended into absolute chaos. We used the confusion to sneak our way to the front, embracing the pretentious glory of those first three rows. We had both had a great time and were basking in that after-concert hype and glow. When the end of the night came and it was time to make it clear I really liked her, I said, “So… I might call you or I might not. Drive safe!” Then I turned and walked away hesitantly and awkwardly, leaving her standing by her car.
Today I accidentally posted a personal ad in the “m4m”, or “men for men” section. Not only is this section of Craigslist the wrong demographic, but the ad that I picked from my collection was a hilarious choice to screw up. (more…)
