Someone's Been to the Moon, All Right

Story Submitted by Teresa:

A friend of mine set me up with Vince, one of her coworkers.  "He's dorky, but sweet," she said, likely with my dorky/sweet track record firmly in her mind.

Vince and I agreed to meet up at a restaurant and he showed up with a shirt that would have looked good on the stereotypical "zany sitcom friend."  It was yellow and blue and red, as if patched together from several other shirts.  I couldn't tell if it was designed that way by accident or intentionally.

He also had a strange posture issue, in which his head sort of dipped down over his chest, like his neck had tired after years of supporting it.  The first thing I thought of was, "Igor."

Dinner was a little uncomfortable, as he made eye contact with me exactly zero times.  I did my best to make him feel comfortable, but it's hard to pretend to be interested in someone when all of your excitement for them just goes out the window.  I couldn't help it, but I did try to make him feel less nervous.

I asked, "Where have you traveled, Vince?"

He pointed up at the ceiling.  I asked, "Where do you mean?"

He said, "The moon.  I mean, I'd like to go to the moon.  It's not very far.  If there was a bridge, you could drive there in a few weeks.  They're building one."

"A bridge to the moon?"

"Will you come with me?"

I nodded.  "Sure.  Once they build a bridge."

He smiled at that.

After dinner, we walked down the sidewalk and he took out his smartphone, looked something up, and said, "They've finished the bridge to the moon!  Let's go," and he took my wrist.

I ripped my hand away and said, "What the hell are you talking about?"

He said, "There was just a news story on here that said that they finished building the bridge to the moon, the one I was telling you about.  You said you'd come with me.  Let's go!"

He went for my hand again but I dodged away.  He said, "You don't believe me," then snapped his fingers and said, "I'll prove it!  Wait right here.  I'll be right back."

I said, "I'm probably just going to go."

"Wait here," and he took off.  As far as I was concerned, the date was done, and I made for my car.

Twenty minutes later, I was most of the way home when my phone rang.  It was Vince.  I answered it, intending to tell him that he seemed like a nice guy, but that he really wasn't my type.

Over the phone, he said, "I have proof!  I've been to the moon and back!  If I show you proof, then will you come with me?"

I played along.  "What sort of proof?"

"A rock.  A rock from the moon.  A moon rock."

I didn't say anything.

He added, "It floats in midair!  You've got to see it!"

I pulled into my driveway and said, "Vince, I'm very happy for you, but I don't think that this is going to work.  I'm sorry."

"Well hello, bitch," he said, then hung up.

I called my friend, the one who had set us up, to tell her about the date.  She apologized over and over, although it really wasn't her fault at all.  I do kind of wonder what would've happened if I returned to Vince and asked him to show me the rock and take me to the moon, where, apparently, rocks float.