Hall of Fame

To call myself an escape artist of dating would be giving me personally too much credit. I would never be able to dip out of a dastardly date without the help of friends, phones, and phony excuses. To bail on a date is said to be one of the most unforgivable foes a girl can commit. Sizing up the situation, the male picked you up, paid for your evening, and most importantly roused up the gusto to even ask you out-- so in theory you should at least give him the decency to attend the entire evening. However, if said male met you there, denied payment, or even an offer to fulfill patriarchal duties, and asked you to this date via text message, your feminine obligation has been rebuked.

Background information: blind date scenario prefaced with lots of flirtatious texting. (Side note: never get over zealous with texting a guy you have yet to meet in person, this only over exaggerates the initial meeting, and sets up expectations that shouldn't naturally have been there to begin with.)

Set the scene: Front of the movie theatre... I'm overdressed, too much make-up, and have the anxiety of a mail-ordered bride waiting to see her potential life partner. I'm waiting there, alone, because my texting teddy bear has chosen to meet me at the theatre... for a more dramatic eye-locking-love moment, or to secure his own escape route if necessary? I'll never know.

We find each other, I run into his arms, we embrace, we kiss, we fall in love. Oh, sorry my hopes and dreams took over the keyboard. Realistically, we find each other, we shuffle back and forth in an overly awkward "do we hug?" dance. We don't hug. We get in line for tickets, my white knight lags behind in line. Maybe he's shy? We arrive at the ticket line, my hunny is still hanging back. Maybe he's cheap. I pay for my own ticket without so much as an offer from Mr. Potential. We get our seats, and stare at the screen. Maybe there's so much sexual tension between us neither of us can even think of anything to say without bursting! He turns to me and insults my shirt. Maybe he's a prick. Midway through the movie I can't take this anymore. I SOS my friend to call for an "emergency." When she calls I answer, frantically, and jet out of the theatre. On my way to the parking lot I shoot him a consolation text of my sincerest apologies, quickly before deleting his number. Maybe I'll stick to finding my own conquests.