Well, it's Blind Date Week! It's like Shark Week except there's less footage of Shark's eating chum, and more discussion about my insecurities. Don't worry, I'm just as mean to myself as I am to other people.
So, in my first blind date post I asked my readers to share some of your best of the worst date stories. I'm here to announce the best bad date story I received (by the way, you can email if the blog thing is too scary, sissies). Who sent in the best date story?
None other than my dear mother:
None other than my dear mother:
"Best wishes for an interesting blind date! I hope you have better luck than I did with my Jon Hamm lookalike...... within the first hour of sharing sushi he told me 1) his bipolar was much better now that he was on medicine, but that he just wasn't as much fun as the party boy he used to be. When he danced all nite and took his first dates to the tables in Las Vegas or to breakfast for beignets in New Orleans (why couldn't I have met him then) 2) He had trouble 'getting the old wanker to wiggle' since his last girlfriend (the pole dancer) and wondered if I was willing to help rehabilitate him 3) He didn't tip the waiter and 4) He he did not believe in condoms (worst blunder ever!)"
So...now I guess I have to devise a clever comeback to "I don't believe in condoms." How about: "Oh me neither, you haven't lived to you've felt the subtle burn of Chlymidia. It's like an 18 year old scotch, am I right?" * Holds hand up for high-five*
So...now I guess I have to devise a clever comeback to "I don't believe in condoms." How about: "Oh me neither, you haven't lived to you've felt the subtle burn of Chlymidia. It's like an 18 year old scotch, am I right?" * Holds hand up for high-five*
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