Post-Date Assessment: The Bloop

So I thought Jeff Goldblum was a safe bet for at least a couple hours of decent company, but alas. Seriously though, this one had a much smaller margin of error because I had been talking to him quite frequently for the last two weeks-ish and had at least a general idea of what this guy’s about. He sends me texts to say goodnight, and good morning, and ‘how’s your day going,’ and ‘hey I’m bored at work’ and here’s a cute story about me and my mom, and, and, and RED FLAG: Cling Alert.

He seemed nice enough- a CompSci major from Temple. Tall. Nice smile. Good posture. His music tastes are a bit spotty and we don’t share any socio-political opinions, but at least he’s working on a decent [boring] career. So you’re an educated 20 year old product of single parenthood aaand you’re a Republican? Huh.

His AIM speak is peppered with “omfGEEZ,” puns and scathing sarcasm. So middle school. So nerdy.

We arranged our “bloop” (as ‘date’ was too grown-up a word for him) at the art museum for wine and cheese. I brought juice box wine, because he’s not old enough to buy booze and he brought the cheese, the good kind. With expensive crackers. Points.

I only had to wait a minute before he made his way down the stairs as everyone else was pretending to be Rocky on their way up.

“Like the fuckin storming of Bastille around here”

I’m sorry. Did the first thing you ever say to me in real life- a French Revolution reference, as a joke? Whoa. Impressed.

We proceeded to sit on the steps with our little picnic and just bullshit. I think he’s cute. I dunno. His pants are a little snug, sexy? Can’t tell. I definitely dig that he’s a history nerd, or a nerd at all. He’s kinda funny. I think?

But let’s talk about baggage and the momentous amount of it that this dude has: Whaaa two bad break ups in my entire life! Girls are so mean. Whaaa my dad’s a douche with a moustache. My mommy’s so sad now. My big brother doesn’t like me. There’s no god.

Shh. Listen. Hear that? It’s the world’s smallest violin, and it’s telling you to shut the fuck up, because, dude, I don’t know you.

Ultimately, I agreed to a second “bloop” even if it’s because I haven’t come to a definitive conclusion. More research needed. Besides, he complimented me on my nose and my clavicles. Points for creativity. And the most important litmus test is the goodbye. So much rides on this single gesture. Hands down, if you try kissing me, I’m never going to take your calls again. If you suggest we go back to your place (or worse, mine), I’m going to kick you square in the ballz.

And what did this gentleman do? a decent hug.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You really hit where it hurts. Sorry it wasn't what you were looking for.