Story Sent in by Lucas:
I wrote a message to April online and after about a week, we met in person. She was cute and pretty interesting. She had actually worked in a circus as an acrobat and was in the midst of writing a doctoral dissertation. I was considering the pursuit of a doctorate, and so I figured we'd have a lot to talk about.
The first inkling that things wouldn't go quite right came before we even met for dinner. I asked her, over email, if she'd be okay with Italian. She said she would. Then, an hour later, she asked me if I could instead pick out a place that had Chinese or Japanese.
I wrote back and recommended one Chinese place and one Japanese. She replied and asked if we could meet at a specific place that was neither Italian nor Chinese nor Japanese: it was a place with American fare. I wasn't sure why she wouldn't have just named that place as a preference from the start, but I was okay with it, so we met there.
At dinner, she asked for two glasses of water. Apparently, she was thirsty. Then she asked me, "Does your family have any genetic problems?"
I asked, "Like kids born with an eye in their foot or something?"
"Anything. Developmental disabilities, retardation, physical imperfections, psychoses, and so forth."
I thought about it, then said, truthfully, "I have an uncle whose pointer finger and middle finger are the same length."
April cringed. I added, "But he's the only one who has it."
She stretched out her fingers at me and said, "Show me your fingers."
I presented them to her, and she studied them closely. It must've looked strange to anyone watching. She sighed, I guessed in relief, and remarked, "Wrinkly," then said, "But I guess it's okay. I have a thing about guys' body quirks. I don't want to pass anything on to my kids. I'm genetically perfect. Two doctors have told me."
"Were they real doctors?"
I thought, then asked, "Did you ever wear braces?"
"Shouldn't someone genetically perfect have been born with perfect teeth?"
She talked over me and said, "Except for that. I'm genetically perfect except for my teeth, but now they're perfect so it's all fine."
I teased, "One of your eyes looks a little smaller than the other."
"One of the doctors said that I was one of a kind, so I'll defer to their judgment. If you can't recognize perfection, then maybe the problem's with you, and that's a problem that I don't want to pass on to my children."
"If you're one of a kind, then how are you going to find your ideal someone else?"
She hesitated, then said, "I'm sure I'm not the only one. Have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince."
"So you're saying the doctor was wrong about you being one of a kind? What else could this doctor have been wrong about?"
She cut me off again. "Will you stop it? The fact is that I'm genetically superior. All the jealousy in the world won't change that."
We didn't talk much more about it. When the check came, wouldn't you know it, the genetically superior one at the table didn't offer to pay for her meal. The politeness-superior one, though, asked her to pay up. We didn't go out again. I prefer my women with a bit of imperfection in them. And humility.
Story Sent in by Lucas: