Thursday, June 23, 2011

Guest Blog: Once Upon a Time... I Met Prince Charming-When-You're-Drunk

Today’s tip on how NOT to lose a girl in one date also marks our first guest blogger! My good friend, Katie, is the survivor and author of today’s cautionary tale, with commentary by yours truly.

How to Ensure a Second Date: Tip #3

Beware the grand, romantic gesture if you haven’t been dating for long (or haven’t even gone out officially  yet).

I don’t know about all you ladies, but I am not afraid to admit that deep down I long for that romantic Hollywood fantasy- the big grand gesture. You know what I’m talking about—your dream guy chasing your plane as it departs, suddenly confessing his undying love for you or giving you the magic kiss to wake you from a 100 year nap… it’s always a memorable scene in which he’s totally courageous and vulnerable, and you’re looking freaking gorgeous (without really trying, of course).

The reason these fantasies are so precious is because things like this don’t happen every day. They are highly unrealistic. The chances of you, for example, looking your absolute best while enjoying a cigarette break on the beautifully lit rooftop of a fabulous club in Austin on New Year’s Eve, and getting asked out by a quality guy who just so happens to live in the same town as you do (Lubbock, which is roughly a 6 hour drive away), are slim to none.

Well, I can’t say that, because it’s happened to me. Or, more accurately, it happened-ish.

So there I am, celebrating the New Year and newfound-singleness with my good friend, all dolled up and danced out, when we decide to hit the rooftop for a ciggy. Suddenly, distress strikes; we soon realize that neither one of us had the precious lighter we’d looked after all weekend. But wait—out of the corner of my eye walks up a handsome stranger who offers me a light.

Sidebar (Katie): I should note that people always look more attractive when you’re single and drunk on New Year’s Eve.

Not only did he offer a light, but he also struck up polite and fun conversation. Of course, in the midst of this romantic scene, I’m still being realistic. I wasn’t expecting anything past a midnight kiss at this point. Until we learned we were both visiting friends in Austin and were returning to Lubbock after winter break.

What are the odds? Could this be fate? Haven’t I seen this in a movie somewhere?

He (let’s call him Mr. Suave) asked for my number, and my friends and I left soon after. A couple of days later, Mr. Suave texted me and asked when I’d be back at school so he could take me out. Wow. He actually followed up—and not with a booty call. Totally appropriate conversation. Planning ahead. Short and sweet message. He was acing it as far as I was concerned.

Sidebar (E): It did seem promising. And yet, as we all know, these stories rarely end well.

Fast-forward a couple of weeks, and Suave asked me out, for our first date, on February 13th.

Yes, the day before Valentine’s Day. He told me he wanted to be my valentine (because I was his), but didn’t want to be so bold as to ask me out for the first time on Valentine’s Day.

Sidebar (E): Awwww...ick.  

I understood what he was getting at—but I thought it was a little weird. Why not just ask me out a few days (heck, even a week) after Valentine’s Day and avoid the awkwardness altogether? There wasn’t a rush. But who am I to be so nitpicky.

He asked me to dinner and a movie, and we agreed to see a special release 3D anti-Valentine horror flick. I’m not kidding. We were both slaves to our curiosity, but was glad he suggested it because I really wanted to see it (I know I’m totally a weird girl).

Date night arrives. Suave calls me when he is outside my apartment building and asks how to get up. As I had explained to him on the phone earlier, I would just meet him outside, because it is an unfortunate hassle to let people in the building. He insists on coming up. I tell him again, no, and further explain that in order for him to be let in, I would have to leave my apartment, walk around the corner to take the elevator down, and walk around to another corner to open the door, so at that point we might as well just leave. Suave wasn’t satisfied with my refusal, but I didn’t want to do that silly charade. I didn’t appreciate his pushing to come up to my apartment, but I chalked it up to him just really, really wanting to be a traditional gentleman (despite my womanly intuition telling me otherwise).

Sidebar (E): See I would totally be thinking “stalker!” at this point. But then I’m all dark and twisty inside ;)

I come outside, and Suave steps out of his car to greet me. He opens the passenger car door, and I nearly plop myself (it was a low, little car) onto a dozen red roses placed on my seat. Mr. Suave explained that was why he wanted to come up—so I could put them in water. That probably would have been better than having me sit on them. Anyway, I was a little bewildered. A dozen red roses on the first date? Could this guy be for real? And so much for not making it feel like a Valentine’s date…I tell myself not to be turned off by this cheesy, trying-too-hard, gesture. Suave was just trying to be nice.

Sidebar (Katie): It’s so not a big deal I couldn’t put them in water. Certainly not worth repeatedly pushing to come up. In my opinion, it’s the thoughtfulness in the moment of getting flowers that is so wonderful, I don’t care how long they last.

Sidebar (E): Oh, hell to the no. This guy just went from zero to creepy in less than a second. See? Big, romantic gesture? Too soon, boys, too soon.

Mr. Suave and I arrive at the sushi restaurant (which was pre-approved by me via text) and there is a 30-minute wait. We didn’t have a reservation. I’m a little turned off, because everyone in Lubbock knows the three sushi restaurants we have are always packed on the weekend. But, I very generously suggested we go to a restaurant nearby, and he agreed, but not to eat—only to get a drink while we wait for our table. Not what I was going for, but okay. I’m also secretly hoping Suave is sure that there’s a movie playing at a later time, and so it’s alright to delay dinner. And I’m really hungry.

We chat while we’re getting a drink at the other restaurant. At this point we’ve only made casual small talk, so now I’m trying to get to know the mysterious Mr. Suave—trying to uncover his interests, his stories, his goals, etc. He coolly tells me he wants to be in the restaurant/hotel business. I find out he’s worked in many restaurants since he was in high school. He implies that he knows all these behind-the-scenes restaurant tips and tricks, and is always mentally critiquing his dining experience, so naturally I try to test him (also trying my best to be flirtatious in a dry conversation).

I ask if he’s been watching our bartender—if he liked his skills or not. I asked him if he liked the lighting of the restaurant, or the uniforms. My questions were quickly dismissed however, because honestly, he was too busy looking at me to notice those things. Because… I looked so beautiful, he said with a sly smile.

Sidebar (E): Gag me.

I wanted to barf.

I almost wasn’t sure if he’d really just said that. I felt set up. He did not at all seem genuine. I think all I could muster was a weak “thank you.”

I’m a tad (err, a tad more) concerned that the universe got this one wrong.

**Part two goes up tomorrow! Believe me, it only gets worse from here. But, for now, I'm curious as to what you think: were the roses sweet or creepy? Vote in the sidebar!


  1. Katie/E,

    We have our Mr. Collins!


  2. 1 rose fine, 12 creepy

  3. 1 would have been just enough... a dozen, first night... the night before Valentine's Day?! C'mon Suave!

  4. either 1 Rose, or maybe a small bouquet of something more thoughtful/meaningful to the scenario. Why doesn't anyone buy flowers based on their meaning anymore??

    Frustrated Nice Guy

  5. Heaven help me. 12 red roses = cliche.

  6. Rookie mistake. He should have thrown a baker's dozen worth of rose petals in your face while yelling "Boom Shakalaka". Works every time.

  7. LOVING the commentary everyone!!

    Mark- you are so dead-on with the Mr. Collins comparison. I'm impressed.

    -- Katie