I was asked out once by a guy that I met through a friend. I knew it wasn’t going to go far from the beginning, when he asked for my number but followed the question up with some lame poor me comment that made it impossible to back out. Greeeeat.
So the following week, my blonde buxom friend and I met up with him and a friend at the Sparks Farmers Market. Ah, Thursday nights in downtown Sparks. It’s a place where you can find one of the highest concentrations of white trash, underage drunks, and people I went to high school with (who may or may not be in the previous two categories) enjoying the cool, beautiful desert night. I’ve never been sure why they call it a “farmers market,” as I have never seen a piece of fruit or vegetable in a five mile radius, and have been meaning to suggest to the City of Sparks that they should rename it the “Slutty Farmer’s Daughters Market.” There is however, a very small collection of a taco truck, a corndog stand, a local radio station setup, and a margarita stand, that I must admit, has the best guava margaritas that I have ever tasted. The margarita stand always had a ridiculously long line, and when I would succumb to the 20-30 minute wait, I would usually buy two of these delicious concoctions and have to walk around with a drink in each hand, incognito with the rest of the crowd. Yeah, it was that kind of place.
So Gretchen and I ended up grabbing a beer (no margaritas for us tonight) and sitting outside the local brewery, listening to some crappy local band and watching the severely intoxicated 50-somethings shake it to the live music, when “Alan” and his friend showed up. If you know me at all, you know that I am not shy. If you have dated me at all, you know I say the most awkward things at the most opportune times.* I can only assume that since I wasn’t really into this “Alan” kid, I wasn’t too nervous and therefore was able to keep my awkward blabber to a minimum. I did, however, mention my clumsiness and grandly showed off my scabby, scarred knees. While the rest of the night was less than exciting, and mostly filled with me talking, Alan still called me the next day to ask if he could take me to dinner.
My philosophy on dating is that anyone who is gutsy enough to ask if they can take me out on a date deserves at least that.** I know that someone can become more appealing the better you get to know them (or more appalling, depending on the person). So the following night, Alan came to pick me up for dinner. He texted me to let me know that he was just getting to my house, and since I was back living with my mom after college, I yelled “Bye!” and raced out the door to meet him before he had a chance to come up to our house. Later, Sally (aka Mom) would tell me that she didn’t think that he was much of a gentleman, since he didn’t come to the door to get me. I never told her that he would have had I not raced out of the house like a bat out of Hell (shout out- love you Sal!).
He did have time to get out of his truck and halfway around it before I was out of the house, and did open the passenger side door for me. He drove a huge, lifted Chevy truck, and I had to remind myself that I was back in Nevada and this was a very common occurrence. It did not necessarily mean that he was an ultra conservative, cattle roping redneck hick.
Anyway, we ended up going to a little Californiacated Mexican restaurant not too far from my house. He pulled up into a parking space right in front, facing the front door and wall of windows surrounding it. There was also outdoor seating, located on the side of the restaurant that was almost directly in front of the passenger side of Alan’s truck. It was a beautiful summer night, and there were plenty of people sitting outside on the colorfully painted picnic tables enjoying their fish tacos. As Alan killed the engine and got out of the truck, I opened my door and went to slide down from the lifted truck, when I tripped, lost my flip-flop, and proceeded to flip around and fall onto the ground, still somehow holding onto the door handle. My landing was actually pretty sweet. I ended up on my rear end, holding onto the door handle, one bare foot on the ground, the other foot, with shoe, still in the truck. Hence, I was facing the inside of this beast of a vehicle and was staring directly at Alan, who was staring right back at me. The image is burned into my memory, but I really wish I could have photographed the look on his face. His mouth was dropped so far open that he could have caught one of his eyeballs when they popped out of his head. It was priceless. After his brief moment of shock, he asked, “Are you okay?!”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. This happens to me all the time.” I said, waving it off and trying to regain my composure. I wasn’t anywhere near as embarrassed as I should have been, and I can only attribute this to what I stated before about not being that into him. If this were a guy that I had had a big crush on, I would have wished that I could melt into the pavement. I can’t imagine how many of the diners sitting in the patio area saw my not-so-graceful tumbling act, but I’m sure I gave someone a good laugh (you’re welcome).
“Oh my God. When you told me you were clumsy, I didn’t actually believe you!” he exclaimed. Note to my readers, I’m not making this up. When I tell you that I am clumsy and uncoordinated, I’m not kidding around. Which is exactly what I told him.
I ended up breaking it off relatively soon after this incident. Not because of the tumble in any way, but because I am pretty sure he was picking out engagement rings after our second date. As a person with commitment issues, this was a problem for me and therefore he had to go. Last I heard, he was engaged to some girl after a, not surprisingly, short courtship. Looking back, I learned that Alan and I have one thing in common; we both fall hard and fast, but in two very different ways.
*See; every other FOL blog regarding me dating.
**Exceptions to that rule include; men over 50, dudes with a criminal record, guys with swastika tattoos, and women. Although the last one is subject to change depending on how good their health benefits are and if they can apply them to a domestic partnership.
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