It only makes sense that since I've already had the best date of all time that it was only a matter of time until I had the worst date of all time. That might be a slight exaggeration, but my date with Stephanie Saturday night was pretty bad.
When I called to ask Stephanie out last week, our conversation was pretty awkward. But it was the first time we'd spoken since the swimming pool, so I didn't think it should count negatively toward her or our chemistry. Stephanie lives in an apartment with a few roommates, but told me she was going to be at her parents house on Saturday and asked if I could pick her up there.
When I got there, her sister let me inside and then left to get Stephanie. I stood in the front room and waited. The house was like a nursing home. It smelled like pee and it was decorated floor to ceiling with little statues and miscellaneous knick-knacks. I didn't count, but I remember seeing at least 20 curio cabinets filled to the brim with figurines. The wall closest to the door had a zillion framed photos presumably of Stephanie's siblings. One of the photos was of two little baby feet... like a posed picture of a newborn infant. Next to it was a photo of the face of a sleeping baby.
When Stephanie came in she caught me studying the photos on the wall. I pointed to the picture of the baby and asked, "Is that your little sister?" Stephanie said, "No. That's my older sister. She was a still birth." So that's how the date started. With me asking about the photo of a dead baby that has been framed and hanging on her parents wall for 23 years.
The good news was that Stephanie had a pretty nice body. And she looked really good with a little bit of makeup on. When we met at the pool her hair was wet and she didn't have any makeup on. She was pretty tall, though. Almost too tall. It looked like she was exactly my height... which isn't good.
We went to eat at Ruby River before the comedy show. The conversation was pretty good, but it wasn't great. After dinner, I told the waiter that it was Stephanie's birthday and asked if they could sing her a song. Stephanie stared at me like she'd just witnessed me stabbing a puppy with a ball-point pen. The waiter said, "We don't sing, but I'll bring out some ice cream cake." After he left, I noticed Stephanie was still staring at me with her lips parted. "You totally just lied." Was she serious? "Well, I guess technically. But now we get free dessert." I couldn't believe Stephanie was so shocked. Had she really never lied about her birthday to get a free dessert at a restaurant? I had always assumed that it was every single persons birthday when I eat out.
The waiter came back out and put the dessert in front of us with two forks. She didn't touch her fork. So I ate it all. It was hard, too, cause I normally don't like stuff like that. But I wanted to prove a point. I'm not sure what the point was, but I proved it.
I couldn't tell if the comedy show was below average or if neither one of us really wanted to be there so we didn't find it very funny.
Despite how horrible the date was going, on the drive home I couldn't help but wonder if Stephanie and I would be making out on her doorstep. Even though I was pretty sure she didn't like me very much, I thought it would be pretty great to have an Angry I Hate You So Much makeout. I'd never had one of those, but it sounded pretty awesome.
As we got closer to her house, I thought I'd liven the mood by singing a song out loud for her... like a little impromptu karaoke. As luck would have it, Poison was the next song on my iPod playlist. I didn't think through the lyrics before I started singing. I was more interested with putting on a humorous show complete with air guitar, air drums, head banging, and full body convulsing. I sang the verses loudly and pretty much right in Stephanie's face:
Your mouth. So hot.
Your well. I'm caught.
Your skin. So wet.
Black lace on sweat.
Keep in mind, this is pretty much the most bitchin' song in the entire world. But before I could get to the second chorus, Stephanie says, "Well, this is a great way to ring in the Sabbath Day." I stopped singing and said, "What?" Stephanie motioned to the clock in my truck that read 12:03... Sunday morning. "I said this song is a great way to ring in the Sabbath."
I turned the stereo off and didn't say anything else until we got to her apartment. Stephanie didn't even give me a chance to open my car door. She was out of my truck almost before it had rolled to a stop.
Stephanie has a pretty nice butt.