The most terrible date night story ever told…

     There once was a boy, who, out of sheer kindness—on my part—shall remain nameless, that went to my church.  Better yet, let’s call him Vance H. or V. Harris, just kidding that is totally a code name.    He had just moved into the ward to go to law school, he was the fresh meat with the ladies, he was tall, attractive, had cute wavy hair that he kept in a longer style, which I love. Basically, he was an all around, seemingly great guy, with few visible flaws.  I had a plan.  I was going to put into the practice something my Psychology of Relationships professor had taught one day in class.  He explained that people are attracted to people who are attracted to them, he said that if we simply make eye contact with people, at various times, during a meeting or party or whatever social occasion we are attending, we have a higher probability of getting that person to come up and talk to us.  Best of all, that person thinks they are doing it all by themselves without any coaxing or overt aggression. So I did what any smart single woman would do...at each church meeting and activity, I would make sure I made eye contact with this guy; I would hold it for a few seconds and look away and thereby working my psychological magic and lady enchantment.  This went on for a few weeks after he moved in…it was quite difficult as there were always a several young ladies who would box me out and try to woo him and trick him into three week engagement.  I never approached him, or introduced myself; I was making a point to not be aggressive and proving a theory that had already been proven.  After weeks of determination and will power, the moment finally came, we were at a Monday night activity and he came up to me as it was ending.  He introduced himself and we got to know one another, as best we could in those few minutes, and it turned out to be a genuine, well paced conversation.   As it was coming to an end, he smiled just so and asked for my number and asked if he could call me about a date for the coming weekend.  I was excited and said that would be great, gave him my number and as promised he called to share with me his plans for that Friday evening.  It was all set up and my visual manipulation technique was successful, eye contact was my tool of seduction, and it had unlocked the heart of this boy. 

                Friday finally came and the date had begun… I was dressed to the nines, not too dressy and not too casual; my hair looked great, and worked hard on my makeup.  Impressing this guy was my top priority; I even brought a purse, which was huge for me at the time.  He picked me up at my apartment right on time and the nightmare began…

He asked me what I wanted to do for the next few hours because he had just eaten and didn’t feel like eating again until he was a little more hungry, meanwhile, I hadn’t eaten since lunch because I stupidly assumed that this date would include dinner, since it was during the universally accepted dinner time hours, my bad.  After letting that process through my brain with a little surprise, I said okay and mentioned a monthly art exhibit that takes place on the first weekend of every month we could go see.  He agreed and we walked down to his car, it was a 1980 Oldsmobile that I swear had once belonged to my grandma, so I asked about it, and he said got a great deal with really low mileage, that he got from some old lady, maybe it wasn’t my grandma, but it was someone’s. 

     I jumped in and he said, “I hope you like David Bowie!”  Sure I like David Bowie, who doesn’t, but this guy didn’t look like the David Bowie type, and my David Bowie exposure was limited to the songs ‘Fame’, ‘Under Pressure’, and ‘Let’s Dance’, but was mostly shaped by Bowie’s role as the Goblin King on Labyrinth, in those tight, awkward, nightmare invoking pants!  Yikes! Needless to say, there wasn’t much talking going on, mostly this kid, just snapped his fingers like he was a member of The Jets on West Side Story, not singing, just snapping.  Once we made it the highway the moratorium of speaking had ended and he asked for directions.  I wasn’t exactly sure how to get there, but knew the general direction of where we were headed, so he followed my directions and we made it downtown.  It was there just on the edge of where downtown meets the ghetto, the car stalled out.  He turned the engine and it started right up, well, at least I thought it did, it was just the sound of my empty stomach growling. 
     
     We were in the middle of the street, and dude started to panic.  I have been in plenty of broken down cars, so as soon as the cars behind us started honking I asked various questions like, had he had the problem before, things like that.  I remember thinking in my head, no way this kid wouldn’t fill up the car before a date, no way he wouldn’t notice he was about to run out of gas, but it was the only question left and I asked, so I did.  “Hey Vance, do you think you are out of gas?” He answered, “I thought I had enough to last until Monday, the light only just turned on!”  Keep in mind it is FRIDAY and the light generally turns on when there are, at most, 35 miles left in the tank, and is all but shouting at the driver to get his butt to a gas station and fill ‘er up.  After hearing this I thought, ‘Well, this is going to be a long night.’ At that point all I could do was square my shoulders and mention that priority one was to get the car out of the road.  Fully expecting a gentleman’s response, I said half heartedly, “I’ll push and you put the car in neutral and pull us over to that meter.”  Even as I said this I was walking over to the driver’s side door, knowing there no way in Hell this kid is going to have ME push HIS car.  Unfortunately, he not only elected to stay in his seat, he buckled himself in for safety.  I got behind that car, purse over shoulder and all, and I pushed and pushed, but the car wouldn’t move, don’t you worry, Vance was nice and comfy in his seat, and I asked, “Hey, bud, is your foot on the break?” “Oh,” he said as he stretched his face over his teeth and took in a breath, “sorry.”

 And take two! 

     Believe that I got that car moving!  We got to safety and we began to walk, toward the Alamodome, in other words toward danger or death, and away from safety.  Luckily, there was a gas station, not three blocks away and we headed that way.  We walked up to what can only be described as a bird cage for humans; it was a gas station that was covered in steel bars and chains that this little woman peeked out of asking what we wanted.  I wanted this kid to be a man and say we needed to borrow a gas can, but he suddenly became interested in the structures of downtown San Antonio.  I asked about a can, she said she didn’t have one, so I asked for a gallon of water that I saw in her lovely fridge.  She narrowed her eyes at me and said that it was illegal to fill an unauthorized container with gas, naturally in the Christian way that I know and love, I narrowed my eyes right back and said thank you while thinking, 'Well, it’s also illegal to operate a crack house with a gas station front.'  We were off again, looking for the next gas station, this necessitated us crossing under the highway continuing on our path to sudden doom. 

     We walked for about half a mile, as I silently giggled to myself about being single, and the opportunities it has afforded me, such as this lovely date.  There was no gas station in sight, in any direction, except for the one behind us, my feet hurt, I was sweating, I wanted this date to be over, and I was hungry.  Needless to say, I had to dig deep to find the capacity to continue conversing with this young man, until suddenly a dark figure appeared to be approaching us at a quick pace.  It was still light outside and it was obvious that we were out of our comfort zone.  I took this opportunity to take a few steps closer to my date and interlock my arm with his.  I promptly followed up this action with saying, “ Listen, I am not coming on to you, I need you to protect me should that occasion arise.”  He nodded in agreement and was openly just as frightened as I was, and the gentleman drew closer.  I was literally praying audibly and thinking of what the last words I had said to my mother were, when this man stopped us.  He looked at both Vance and I for a few seconds, and said exactly this, “Chillren, I don’t know where you think you is, but yous about to enter Crackville.  I suggest yous move on ‘fore you get in world of hurt.”  We responded in unison, “Yes sir!” At that, we turned on our heels and walked back in the direction of the car.  We made it back to the first gas station/jail house and I demanded that this woman sell me a gallon of water, what we do with the bottle is our own business.  I grabbed the water, which dude let me pay for, and walked it over to the grass, to pour it out and Vance shouted for me to halt.  He had a really hard time with me wasting that dollar worth of water and proceeded to take turns we me drinking it.  When we were sufficiently water logged, I poured out the rest and allowed him to fill it up with gas. While this was going on, I pulled out a video camera to document that ,in fact, was not a dream and was actually taking place, but also to show my friends so that they would know I wasn’t exaggerating. 

     When we made it back to the car he said, “Okay, you be the funnel, and I’ll pour.” Again, dumbfounded, either by his response or my reaction of absolute obedience to his request, I allowed this young man to pour gasoline all over my hands and even splash some on my feet.  Seriously, folks I was just trying to find the fastest way home.  We went back to the station, where this kid proceeds to put only five dollars in the tank, I tell you, he's a keeper.  We are about three hours in, and at this point, my hair is matted to my head, I have been all but threatened my life, I haven’t eaten in seven hours and I am now flammable.  I request very sweetly, because I am sure at any moment Ashton Kutcher is about to jump out and yell that I had been Punk’D and I want to be well behaved in front of the cameras, ask that we just drive through somewhere so that I can eat.  He complies by taking me to Wendy’s.  I look at the menu ready to ask for everything I can see, and right before the 16 year old inside asks us what we want, Vance leans in close to me and says, “Kyle… Can we limit it to 2 items off the value menu?”  I think it was at that moment I consciously chose to leave my body and go to a place where this young man didn’t exist.  I got my items, thanked Vance for the adventure, and walked myself up to my apartment.  I literally collapsed onto the ground when I opened the door, being driven only by my hunger I crawled to a corner and rocked myself gently, as I shoved fries in my mouth and silently sang, “ …when I get excited, my little china girl, she says, ‘oh baby just you just your mouth.’”

Small confession: I went out with him one more time after this.

I'll keep holding out...