A Long Walk On The Beach? Ehh…Not so much.
I think I’ve done a fairly good job keeping my “E-Street Cred” up enough to be able to post these “The Emo Files” blogs.
This one is a simulcast from my personal Mi Espacio page. I think it’s funny, and if you Super Cool Guys and Butched Up Chicks can soften your stances for a bit, I think you’ll like it.
Remember: It Ain’t That Serious.
Disclaimer- Despite the fact that I use the appropriate n/h’s throughout the text, I’d like to issue a state of No Homo Juelz Santana [||] for the whole thing.
A First Date with Rey. In like 60 parts.
Get Comfortable. This should be very amusing.
(Um… These Italic Intros are harder to come up with than you’d think.)
Alright, so for all the pissing and moaning I do about being single, and how much I wanna be in a relationship, I do a fair amount of pondering just what the heck I would do if I actually found a girl that wasn’t (deep breath): tired of me after a week, taken, living with some dude, completely apathetic, afraid of seeing me more than once a week… etc etc.
Look, most guys like to break out all this corny shit: “Baby, if you went out with me, we’d have the best time. We’d take a limo into the city and have an early dinner–whereever you’d wanna go. Then, we’ll go see a show. After that, I’ll take you on a carriage ride and we can just talk and enjoy the city air.”
That sounds awesome, but the thing is, where do you go after that? How do you top the limo into the city/fancy dinner/broadway/carriage ride date? Answer: You don’t. From then on, unless you’ve got mad dough and no bills (not bloody likely given my audience–no offense), you really can’t top that.
No sir. That’s not what your old pal Grand Daddy Emo ReyTheHussein would do. Why? Well, because:
A- I couldn’t afford that.
B- While that does sound like something I’d do, I sure as Chicago wouldn’t pull that one out [||] early on in the interaction. That’s an anniversary or promotion or birthday kinda thing, at least for me.
To be completely honest, a first date with me would most likely go like this (this should be fun):
1- I buy a new outfit without trying it on.
2- I dread actually putting on new outfit for fear that it doesn’t fit.
3- I get in the shower like an hour and a half before I’m supposed to be there.
4- I make sure I have music going. Either the “shower” mix on my phone, Jay-Z, or Kanye West.
5- I ponder the date’s possibilities. What it could mean for me, Whether or not I’m gonna hit a homerun on date 1, the fact that the best possible ending to the date could be breakfast.
6- I switch to wondering/worrying about how much money I have. (this is mostly moot seeing as how I’d never make a date for the “off” week I don’t get paid.–or I’d beg or borrow to make sure I had “just in case” money—Chris Turk would hook me up f’sho, as I would for him)
7- Shower is over. I start to really worry about the outfit I bought fitting.
8- I start to shave. I’m a neurotic shaver, so this takes a while.
9- I wonder if I have any back-up clothes that I would look cute in if the new outfit I bought doesn’t fit.
10- I decide to stop shaving before I go nuts and just shave everything off. I need at least my goatee or else I look fatter than usually, face-wise.
11- It’s time for the aftershave. AAAAAH! THAT F’N BURNS!
12- I put on some Degree deodorant & make sure I’m cologne’d up. (Calvin Klein’s Eternity–don’t front, girls luuuhhh dat).
13- It’s the moment of truth. I’m all boxer-brief’d and dress socks (they make my feet cooler) and undershirted (not a huge fan of ‘beaters, so probably a foot locker tee with the sleeves cut off), and it’s time to try on the outfit.
14- The Jeans fit. Huzzahs!
15- The shirt fits! Huzzahs!
16- It’s shoe time! Now, because my jeans are big and long [||], the shoes are important. I refuse to cuff my jeans (I can’t help but think “Hippie Painter”), so I gotta make sure I can tuck them carefully into my shoes. Not a lot, just enough so that I won’t be walking all over the bottom of said jeans. I usually go with sneakers cuz the jeans will cover up my shoes anyway.
17- I do the 4 Area Check. Wallet. Keys. Phone. Chain. I repeat this on my way out the door, and once on the way to the car.
18- One more 4 Area Check whilst in the car.
19- Make sure I know how to get to her house.
20- 7-11 for Mints, Bottle of Water, ATM.
21- The Drive Over. Lots of Quadruple checking the directions. Flipping stations.
22- I get to her house on time.
23- I dread the walk up to her door.
24- I knock. Shesa ready, which spares me the unparallelled dread of Small Talk With Anyone There. Why is that dreadful? Because everyone in that sumbitch is already hip to what I’m thinking: “That son of a bitch is wondering if he’s gonna get some outta this.”
25- She comes out looking all hot. We walk to the car, I open the do’ for her.
26- Car Small Talk. Car Small Talk is easy. It practically writes itself. How was the ride over, Did you find it okay, Quick reference to the last time we saw each other, where do you wanna go… etc etc. I try to crack jokes.
27- Alright, so here is where I differ from SuperDater Guy in the fake scenario about 2,000 words up. At this point in my life, I’m not about to go to some fancy shmancy place that my Coor’s Light drankin’ ass is gonna be uncomfortable at. We’re gonna hit like Fridays. Or Applebees. Or some other place we’ve both been to 150 times. Busy but not crowded, Casual, Crap on the walls, music overhead.
28- Dinner talk is usually reserved for the getting to know you stuff. How’d you meet *insert name of mutual friend*, Where’d you go to school, What do you do, etc etc blah blah. I pay attention and try to crack more jokes. If she’s not rolling her eyes, I’m doing good. If she’s laughing to the point where she has to cover her mouth to keep from spewing water across the table, I’m doing great. If she’s pausing or I’m explaining my jokes, I’m doing bad. (for the purposes of keeping this entry like an omelette–light and fluffy–we’re gonna assume I’m doing great).
29- Dinner comes, and I’m trying my best to use all my utensils, my napkin, and to not cannonball diet pepsi’s like I have an endorsement deal. I keep making eye contact, and make it a point to keep my flippin’ mouth closed when I chew/not talking with my mouth full.
30- She’s a girl, so of course, she eats slower than Fat Joe runs the 40. I listen and ask questions and keep making jokes. I’m a good conversation guy.
31- It’s time for dessert, but I’m thinking dessert should be held off. She says, “None for me actually”, and I bite Chris Turk’s line [||], “We’re all set actually.”
31- The check comes, and because it’s the 00’s, she reaches for her wallet. I make some kind of “Git” comment. She insists. I make some kind of joke. She reluctantly agrees to let me pay.
32- I tip an obscene amount. Casually enough so that she won’t think I’m bragging. Obvious enough so that she notices.
33- What comes after dinner? Say it with me: A MOVIE! That’s right, a movie. Once again, I can pretend that I’d have something wicked awesome planned, but it’s me. If I did the wicked awesome thing, the jig would be up real quick, cuz I’m not built for flashy displays of wicked awesome. I’m emo, not a Rockefeller. Motherfucker.
34- More car small talk. At this point we’ve reached the “Trading silly stories” point.
35- So the movie comes, and if it’s a 631 chick, I’m pimpin’ DTMJ’s passes. She’s a girl, so she’ll be in the bathroom when I ask for them. Ain’t no shame in that. I just overtipped an average waiter an obscene amount. I’m not cheap by asking my Movie Theater Manager Friend to hook me up. If it’s a 516 chick, I just cop tickets like a normal person. $20 is not that big a deal.
36- Movie related conversations ensue. What looks good, what looks bad, “$9 for candy, what’s up with that?”
37- Trailers. I hold in most of my snarky movie-related comments.
38- The movie comes on. I gladly relinquish my armrest to her.
39- I take note of what she’s laughing at. I keep heckling to a minimum.
40- It’s still REY, so of course my brain is wondering how I’m doing. I’m not really expecting any booty, but I am curious as to how the nite is going on her end.
41- I ponder trying to hold her hand about 56 times during the course of the movie. Ultimately I decide to not worry about it. If she wants to hold my hand, she knows where it is. It’s resting on my leg, cuz I gave her the armrest.
42- Movie’s over. I tell her about the Negative Cutter thing. Upon hearing my explanation, she gives me the same look F.R.E.D. gives me when I say something other than “Wanna go outside?” and “Whozhat goo’ puppeeee?”. She sits back down and I crack more jokes. “What’s a Best Boy grip anyway?”
43- Mo Henry! We get up and leave.
44- She’s a girl. She goes to the bathroom. I take this opportunity to return the texts of the 4 people that have tried holla-ing at me during this whole thing.
45- She comes out.
46- Now comes the “What Now” part. According to my brother Nooga, any good date needs 3 successful parts. Unfortunately, I am not my brother Nooga, and do not possess the ability to make a trip to the 7-11 a wacky adventure. (luckily, this is my good first date scenario, and I can continue it if I want)
47- She’s still laughing at my random jokes and observations. She’s zinging back and forth with me. I call her a dork. Tell her I’m not afraid of her, and that I could probably take her. She tells me she can kick my ass. I agree.
48- The evening continues, and we decide on Ice Cream. Helloooo Baskin-Robbins!
49- More conversation. More me asking questions. Conversation moves on from mutual friends and work stuff to family stuff.
50- It’s like 1am-ish, and the tired sets in. Time to drive home.
51- Conversation in the car. I curse my lack of a functional radio. Luckily it holds still on 97.5 so I’m not cursing at it.
52- We pull up in front of her place. A bit more conversation. I don’t press it and am careful to watch her body language. Tired can shift from Cute to Cranky maaad quick.
53- We get out, I walk her up to her door.
54- We’re in front of the door. She says, “I had a good time tonite.” with a cute smile.
55- I say “I did too.” I can hardly hear myself say this because my heart is beating at 1000 decibels because of what might happen next.
56- We linger for a second. All my cool goes out the window and now I’m just kinda dorky and kinda nervous…in an endearing way.
57- She says she has to go. I say okay.
58- She kisses me on the lips. The Little Men in the control tower start popping champagne like I just won the SuperBowl.
59- She goes in, gives me a wave right before the door closes.
60- I smile. Look up at the stars on my way to the car.
It was a good nite.
Call Reynolds, Cuz It’s A Wrap.
That was fun. I enjoyed that. So, as a follow up, I have a request.
I’d like you, my loyal readers, commenters, and lurking bastards, to share with ME, a cute First Date story. It can be mushy, It can be funny, it can describe one of those disasters chicks write into Cosmo about.
Change the names if you have to, but leave it in the comment section.
Humble thanks, and Chicken Wings to whoever made it this far.