7/19/2012

Why the Martians Hate Us

Story Sent in by AnnaLee:

Lawrence's first in-person words to me were, "You're about to have a date with the best guy, ever."

I replied, "Am I?"

He said, "Let's start with chivalry." He opened the nearby restaurant door for me. I thanked him and walked in.

Once we sat down, I asked him how his day went. "Great!" he replied, "I'm finally going to be recognized for being better than my boss! They're giving me a colossal raise. Your first drink's on me, tonight!"

"Thanks. What are they going to have you doing?" I had asked him, when we were first talking online, what he did, and he said he was a consultant.

"Astronaut engineering," he replied. "And working with a top Hollywood director on producing a major motion picture. It's about to get really busy for me. You're so lucky I made the time to be with you and to pay for your first drink."

"Thanks. Again. Those sound pretty... you're going to be doing both of those at once?"

He nodded, then shouted, across the restaurant, "Waiter to the best table! Paging a waiter to the best table!" He turned back to me and said, "Well, that's in addition to my own work as an attorney. I'm about to win a major malpractice suit and be made a managing partner of an investment firm. Yes, these are busy times for me. Busy and successful. Want a drink? First one's on me—"

A waiter hurried over. Lawrence said, "I'll have a cocktail."

The waiter asked, "Which cocktail?"

Lawrence replied, "Whichever one's best. And I'm paying for her first drink. Just her first drink. She'll have a," he looked at me, "What do you want?"

I glanced over the house special drink menu and asked the waiter, "What do you recommend, between the Bloody Cassie and the Vector?"

Lawrence cut in, "Try them both. But I'm only buying the first one." He turned to the waiter. "She'll have both. But I'm only buying one of them."

I said, "I'll have the Bloody Cassie."

As the waiter left, Lawrence said, "You should've ordered both. I want you drunk."

I kept him talking until the drinks arrived. One of his many gems was, "They were actually considering sending a vial of my DNA to Mars and having it be the first human DNA to touch Martian soil. It was a NASA program to send DNA to Mars. My DNA. To the Mars lands."

When my cocktail came, I drank it in silence as Lawrence went on about his amazing accomplishments. "I invented a new kind of deadbolt that actually locks from both sides of the door, without a key."

I asked, "What's the point of that?"

He answered, "It locks. You know, from both sides. No more inconvenient locking from just one side."

Right. I finished my drink and decided that, despite his entertainment value, it was time for me to go. He repeatedly offered me a ride home, I declined, and he insisted that I take his light jacket with me, to keep me warm. It was 70° out.

He said, "Hang onto it. This way, I'll be sure to see you again," and winked.

I tried to refuse the coat, but he insisted, so I took it. I never contacted him after that date, and he never reached out to me, either. I only recently rediscovered the coat in my closet, with a two pockets full of condoms, and that brought the whole unfortunate experience back to me.

10 comments:

  1. Bipolar disorder in a manic phase.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I concur with your diagnosis!

      Delete
    2. Awww, diagnosing the crazy kind of takes the fun out of it. :-P

      Delete
  2. Pretty unbelievable. Fiction?

    ReplyDelete
  3. You think so? Have you ever watched a presidential debate?

    ReplyDelete
  4. Reminds me of my cousin.

    ReplyDelete
  5. There are some strange people in the world.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Were the condoms for collecting his DNA?

    ReplyDelete
  7. I'm embarrased to be the same gender as that prick.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Re: BethRD - that is exactly what I thought.

    ReplyDelete

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.

Content Policy

A Bad Case of the Dates reserves the right to publish or not publish any submitted content at any time, and by submitting content to A Bad Case of the Dates, you retain original copyright, but are granting us the right to post, edit, and/or republish your content forever and in any media throughout the universe. If Zeta Reticulans come down from their home planet to harvest bad dating stories, you could become an intergalactic megastar. Go you!

A Bad Case of the Dates is not responsible for user comments. We also reserve the right to delete any comments at any time and for any reason. We're hoping to not have to, though.

Aching to reach us? abadcaseofthedates at gmail dot com.