Preparation
Going on dates with two different girls in the same day requires preparation. First, you have to decide if you want the dates to happen at the same time and same place. I am an idiot, so I actually considered this. I thought it would funny if I was hopping back and forth between picnics at Dolores Park - "Hey, I need to use the restroom. I'll be back in twenty minutes. Please don't follow me." Luckily, my dates were only available at different times, so I could not consider this further.
Both chicks are from match dot com. Obviously this should be of no surprise to you. Actually meeting chicks face-to-face would require a sack or lots of alcohol. If I didn't go the face-to-face route, I guess I could also live with a chick and watch scary movies (forcing her into my bed for comfort) or go to grad school and try to pull off that cool, mature, older dude vibe to all the undergrads.
So, yeah, these chicks are from match dot com. I haven't been on a match dot com date since late November when a chick invited herself into my house, then my bed, and then proceeded to lick my sack. My response: to go limp after about five to ten minutes of sex because I just wasn't into it. She smelled somewhat foul in that her perfume reminded me of a Mexican housemaid. If you don't know what I'm talking about, just realize it's kinda gross. Anyway, there will be no date recap of that date but there will be a lesson: do not get trashed on a first date.
My contact with Lauren (date #2 of 2) was very simple - a few emails and a couple text messages - and we were set to meet at 3:30pm in the Embarcadero. My contact with Rosa Maria (date #1 of 2) was a bit more difficult. She gave me her phone number over email and told me to call her to arrange the date. I am not too seasoned with calling chicks to arrange dates. How asinine. Email and text messaging were invented to smoothen out the dating process; why did she not realize this? So, I gave her a call, leaving a voice mail around 1pm on Saturday afternoon. Very soon, it was 10pm on Saturday night and there was still no return phone call. What is this bullshit? Who does this chick think she is? She's going to ditch me and not even call back? If I didn't already have another date lined up, I might've been pretty pissed off. I decided to text message her with: "Hi. Just so we're clear, are we not going on a date tomorrow afternoon?" She replied back: "You have the wrong number, buddy." Shit. I was given a fake number. I was given a fake number over match dot com. This is a new low. I logged back onto match dot com to write a mean-spirited email along the lines of "You really hurt me." Very mean-spirited, I tell ya. After reading her previous email again, I realize that I incorrectly transcribed her number into my phone. I am an idiot who frequently confuses 7s for 1s and 1s for 7s. Just those numbers, I don't know why. It happens while using my phone and the television remote control. Anyway, I immediately called Rosa Maria, explained the reason for my late phone call, and arranged a date for Sunday at 11am.
So, the stage is set. The first date is with Rosa Maria, a 5'11" Hispanic/Latino 28-year old, at 11am in Dolores Park. The second date is with Lauren, a 5'1" Caucasian 26-year old, at 3:30pm around the Embarcadero. I wonder if anyone in the world has ever gone on two dates in one day where the height differential was ten inches. On a related note, the shortest chick I've ever gone out with said she was 4'11". However, there's a strong chance she was lying and was actually 4'9", which would technically make her a midget. She knew that fact so she lied about being 4'11". However, instead of getting a height job, she got a boob job. Those D-cups are a whole 'nother story, which involves the line, "You got a boob job? Do you have any self-respect? What's wrong with you? Are you trying to overcompensate for your height?" This line happened while we were making out. Yeah, it's amazing I'm still single.
Date #1 - Rosa Maria
For a date at 11am, I had to get up at 10:20am. Being that I have a tremendously fucked up sleeping schedule, I had gone to sleep at 6am. Luckily, dating is psychological not physical, so I was ready. I woke up at 10:20am, showered, got my good smell on, inflated my scooter tire, deflated my scooter tire, and got there a couple minutes early. To explain the scooter tire bit, I was told about a month ago from a passing motorist that my rear scooter tire looked flat. I had never inflated a tire of any sort in my entire life, so I decided to wait until that day to do so. I looked up online that my tires should be about 36PSI. Upon arriving at the gas station, I found that they were both 2PSI. Motherfucker. So, I inflated that shit to about 7PSI and said there's no way I'm getting this to 36PSI. Fuck that shit. After scootering six blocks, something didn't feel right. I stopped at another gas station, got some help, and realized that I'm an idiot. When reading the gauge, I didn't notice the number on other side of the 2 and 7, which was a 0. The 0 was separated from the other numbers by a straight line going down the middle. I had inflated my previously underinflated 20PSI tire to an overinflated 70PSI. It almost sounds like some Darwinian death where I should've lost my life due to sheer stupidity. But I did not and I'm still alive to terrorize the women of match dot com.
Shortly after my arrival, Rosa Maria calls me because she's having trouble parking. I tell her to pick me up on the corner and I hear her say, "I'm in a Camaro." I start giggling and wondering if Hispanic/Latino people are known for driving Camaros. I am not sure. But it doesn't matter when she pulls up in a Mini Cooper. I am hard of hearing. I hop into the car, say hello, and start playing with her dog. In arranging the date, I told her that we should go to Dolores Park and she should bring her dog. If all else goes wrong, we could just focus on playing fetch with the dog. While driving, I noticed that she had her left foot crossed beneath her right thigh. That was kinda cute. We find parking quickly and walk towards Dolores Park. She's pretty attractive and definitely tall. (I'm 5'8 3/4", but I happily didn't feel any short man complex.) However, her make-up is caked on. Gross. I hate that shit.
Dolores Park is fairly wide open because it's early and a lot of people are attending Super Bowl parties. Rad. I hate it when Dolores Park is packed. We find a space, lay down my blanket, and pop open my bottle of white wine. This is a very standard dating machine-date; I do not have many moves. I find out she's originally from Texas, moved down here last summer for her job as a speech pathologist, and I'm her virgin date on match dot com. (Out of about 20 match dot com dates, I've been the virgin date for about 15 of the women. I don't know what that means.) Her sensibilities were very traditional and friendly. While that's awesome and nice, I prefer someone wise, snarky, and progressive. While she was still quite attractive (aside from the make-up), after about an hour, I'm positive that there's no chemistry and I'm sure she realized the same. Incidentally, her match dot com profile definitely did not list Asian as an ethnicity that she wanted to date. I've gone on a bunch of match dot com dates with women who don't want to date asian dudes, and our dates never last longer than the initial date. This one would likely be no different.
Anyway, we talked about a lot of shit, none of which was terribly interesting because I don't remember much. I do remember playing fetch with her dog, Phoebe, a little bit and throwing the ball mad far. Both her and the neighboring yoga chick, who introduced herself to us for no reason, were amazed by my throwing prowess. I sarcastically explained that it was all due to my intense softball training. She didn't get that I was being sarcastic and probably thought I was weird. I decided to push it further by saying, "Yeah, we have a big tournament coming up this summer. I'm hoping we take home the trophy and I won't accept anything less than utter domination." I think she understood my sarcasm because she laughed, but she may have just been laughing at me. I don't know.
At one point, I asked why she decided to go out with me when she had a plethora of dudes to pick from. She's probably in the 95th percentile in regards to the chicks on match dot com. She explained that all the dudes that emailed her were either too old-looking (40s, 50s), too creepy-looking ("hi, let's a get drink tonight" as the entire and initial email), or too strong-looking. I laughed and delighted at the fact that I was frail and definitely could never successfully rape her. This is now the third date in a row where I've mentioned me raping the chick in some manner. You'd think that would be a horrible move, but amazingly, it's always met with laughter. It's all about the delivery. And your hand has to be on her thigh. It's funnier that way.
We chilled at Dolores Park for about two and a half hours and then decided to get something to eat. A standard dating machine-date would include El Farolito. Because I am cheap. However, Isabelle, my scooter, has been acting up lately and Rosa Maria decided Phoebe (a chubby Jack Russell terrier) could not fit in my back pack for the ride, so we decide to walk around and find a place to eat. We stop at a pizza place and immediately sit down on one of their patio tables. However, we didn't notice the line, which was initially circular, so it looked like people were just hanging out. After a few evil glares, I get up, ask if that's the line, and apologize for taking the table. We get up and order a pizza to go. In waiting for our pizza, I asked for a tub of water for the dog. The one nice waitress (out of four) graciously and happily gives us a tub of water. That waitress is sweet, I like her. After about ten minutes, the same waitress comes out and tells us our table is set up. We're confused but go with it since there's no longer a line. After two minutes, a different waitress comes out and tries to get our order. I explain that we ordered something to go but were instructed to sit down. She retorts that if anyone else needs a table, we'd need to leave. Very confusing. There isn't even a line anymore. In another two minutes, two people are waiting in line. We are told to leave the table. I didn't ever really care because it's all adding to the whole aura I have about hating pizza. Pizza never results in anything productive or good, unless it somehow and directly leads to sex. But I don't know how that would ever happen. Because it's pizza. Anyway, Rosa Maria super doesn't want to leave the table and is a little pissed. I am amazed at this sudden show of emotion, start laughing, and ask if she's serious. She smiles and says she's kidding. I believe she's lying so I press further and call her out. She relents and admits to being pissed off at the treatment. I tell her it'd be nicer if we just eat at the park anyway; she begrudgingly agrees. The pizza eventually comes out and we leave.
On the way to the park, I realize that I only got water for the dog, but not for us. We stop by Bi-Rite and I buy a couple vitamin waters. In paying for the purchase, I pull out all my loose cash and change to find out that I have the exact amount, $3.68. I was amazed and had a fat smile on my face. The cashier did too, causing this exchange:
dude: Dude, that's exactly how much you need!
me: I know! I'm shocked.
dude: That's never happened before.
me: Yeah, for me neither.
dude: Have a great day! I'll see you again.
me: Yeah, you too. We need to make this happen again.
dude: Definitely.
Haha, ridiculous.
We set up shop at Dolores Park again and start eating the pizza. Rosa Maria explains that Phoebe is super well behaved and will not even try to eat human food. Rosa Maria is wrong. While we're sitting on the ground, Phoebe is all over us trying to snatch a slice of the pizza. She's never successful, but I definitely got some paw to the face. Rosa Maria profusely apologized, but I didn't really give a shit. It just meant that I had to take another shower before my second date. I then got caught in the thought of only showering when I had dates. That's probably a bad plan.
Did I mention I got some tongue on this date? Yeah, the dog put her tongue into my mouth. Twice. I had a little dog breath. It was weird, but funny. Phoebe was like a little fat chick only going for the kiss because I had pizza on my breath.
The date ended around 2:30pm with me walking Rosa Maria to her car and then exchanging a harmless hug. We didn't talk about a second date at all, but I'd consider going out again if it were purely as friends. Oh, and Phoebe should be there to give me some sugar.
(scale of one to ten)
Fun - 7, mostly because of the dog
Interesting - 4
Future Relationship Potential - 1
Future Friendship Potential - 6
Date #2 - Lauren
It was roughly 2:30pm, which allowed me exactly enough time to go home, shower, and race off to the Embarcadero district. I did so and laughed to myself about how I was sorta living a double life, like the ones you see on the 20/20 special reports or Dateline. Except neither of these girls probably wanted to ever see me again. No matter, I got more shit lined up; it is dating season after all.
I arrived in the Embarcadero district a couple minutes early and called Lauren to find that she'd be a couple minutes late. I told her I'd wait on the corner like a five dollar hooker. I don't know why I say these things. I'm not trying to be funny; I just have no filter. When I think about not being strong, I think about my inability to rape. When I think about waiting on the corner, I think about the life of a hooker. I want to take one of those word association quizzes to see if I am deranged. Or just lonely with a slight S&M fetish.
While waiting for Lauren, I had forgotten exactly what she looked like. As each solo chick passed by, I got slightly anxious and worried. All the chicks who passed by were not attractive. But they may have looked unattractive because I was staring at them and they were giving me a stop-staring-at-me-you-fucking-creep look. Anyway, eventually one of the chicks smiled at me. I figured this was Lauren. It was. Even though it's stated in her match dot com profile that she's 5'1", she still seemed even shorter. Whatever. She was fairly attractive and looked better than her pictures. Although, as white women are normally cursed in this respect, she was aging poorly. At 26-years of age, she had already developed some pretty deep smile wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. I've never before went on a date with a chick who had that feature. I made a note that I did not like it.
Lauren seemed pretty nice and down to do shit, mainly because she was willing to get on the scooter and head over to the Richmond district for a drink and skeeball. She had also driven (a car), but the scooter was faster, easier, and deadlier. How can you beat that shit? While trying to start the scooter, Isabelle would not start. Lauren surmised that Isabelle was pissed off that another woman was getting on the scooter. I deadpanly said, "She's not pissed off about that. Women get on the scooter all the time." Lauren laughed, so the date definitely had some potential. Eventually Isabelle started and we got on. I gave Lauren the option of either holding onto the back of the scooter or holding onto me. She decided to hold onto me. I'm currently doing an ongoing study of the correlation between whether the chick holds onto me and whether we will have sex. It's a fairly interesting study because getting on the scooter usually happens within the first minutes of meeting each other, so we barely know each other. Prior to Lauren, this scooter test has resulted in 100% (4 out of 4) girls having sex with me if they hold onto me, and 100% (5 out of 5) not having sex with me if they don't hold onto me. I am not yet prepared to provide a scientific analysis nor conclusion.
We started making our way to the Richmond district and, more specifically, Buckshot on Geary. We talked about random shit while scootering there and I mentioned how the first time I ever had a chick on the scooter, we fell twice while going up a hill. I had never gone up a hill and also never had a chick/passenger on the scooter before. I told Lauren she had nothing to fear because I've since had many, many, many women on the back. She laughed again. Good sign. Upon arriving at Buckshot at 4pm, we found it to be closed even though it was supposed to open at 4pm on Sundays. They have skeeball, which was our main reason for going there, so we decided to walk around a little bit and check back in ten minutes. During the walk, I told her not to be intimidated if a lot of people came up to me and said what's up. I explained that the Richmond district had a lot of Chinese people, so my uncles and aunts were all over the place. She responded that, in order to not hurt my street/Asian cred, she'd walk away and pretend not to know me. I told her that would be an excellent move because we (the Chinese) hate the Whites. She said she was Jewish (at least on her dad's side). I told her that was even worse because Jews are even cheaper than Chinese people. She laughed.
After ten minutes of passing by a couple bars with a bunch of old Chinese dudes outside smoking and Lauren asking if they were my uncles and I wanted to say hi, we got back to Buckshot and saw a handwritten sign saying they'd be open at 5:15pm. We then decided to go to one of the non-old-Chinese-dude bars to get a drink. We found a pretty cool place on Clement, Lauren said she'd get whatever I got, and I paid for a couple glasses of red wine. I'm very sure that Lauren does not regularly order wine, like I do, but (1) wanted to see what I would order and (2) wanted to attempt to appease me by drinking the same shit. At times, throughout the date, she'd do very predictable things. I can't really explain it, but I more often than not knew what she was going to do or say. This might be the result of me being a dating machine. Dating machines are seasonal, so sometimes my shit is on and many other times it is not. While at this bar, I had hyped up that I had been on a lot of terrible dates. She wanted to hear about them, probably because she didn't want to make any of the same mistakes and to also try to understand me better. I told her three dating stories...
I told her about underbite (and referred to her as underbite because I forgot her real name). I started at the beginning when underbite tried to unsuccessfully pick me up at Thalassa (I forget who was there with me, but it was a fairly big crew) using some story about her uncle wanting to buy a used car, which was met with me asking underbite if she came over to ask about cars or to pick one of us up. And then how she got her dude friend to come over and get my number. I continued to tell Lauren how underbite turned out to be the cousin of my friend's girlfriend and how he set up a really bad double date involving the four of us eating leftover barbecue out of tupperware at his girlfriend's house. Pretty weird. The story of underbite finally ended when underbite somehow got invited to a golf outing, which was later followed by Rohan Lounge in the evening. At Rohan, underbite got drunk, pulled me outside, and explained that she only came out to hang out with me and all I was doing was avoiding her. No shit, underbite; I don't like you. She then cried and tried to go in for a kiss with me pinned against the Rohan Lounge window. I pushed her face away with my forearm. I heard cheering inside; I think it was my friend, Giz. I love that story.
The next story I told Lauren involved me inviting a chick over to my place for a first date. This happened in late 2003 when I came back from Los Angeles. I was pretty poor, lazy, and, of course, cheap, so I decided that the first date should involve watching a dvd at my place. It was a blind date off craigslist so I had no idea what she looked like. She did not look good. When she arrived, she brought me an apple. That was weird. If she were attractive, that would've been hot and I would've eaten that apple like a fat vegetarian. After about ten minutes of excruciating torture, I realized I had my computer on and I IMed my friend, Wu, when the chick went into the bathroom. I told Wu to call me in ten minutes, without providing any reasoning. If I recall correctly, the phone call went something like this:
Wu: What up?
me: Who got stabbed?
Wu: What? Someone got stabbed?
me: Thos? What was he doing? It doesn't matter. Where is he right now?
Wu: I have no idea what you're talking about.
me: Okay, I'll be there in ten minutes.
Wu: Whatever dude.
The date was over. Thanks Wu.
The final story involved a date with an asian chick who applied her make-up with a fat paintbrush. Liberally. She wore too much make-up, probably doing her utmost to cover her ugly face. It didn't work. The date occurred at Cafe Du Soleil, which is another standard dating machine-date. 80% of all first dates happen at either Dolores Park or Cafe du Soleil. If you ever want to spy on me and I don't tell you the location, you can usually find me at one of these two spots. However, I don't give a shit about spying, so I'll tell you the location anyway. Amazingly enough, the date went well and we got along fine. However, I was not the least bit physically attracted to her and felt no chemistry. That was not the case for her. At the end of the date, we had this exchange:
her: Did you have a good time?
me: Yes, definitely.
her: Do you want to see me again?
me: No, not really.
her: Why!? Why not? Didn't you have a good time?
me: Yes, I had a great time, but I don't really feel a connection. You're not my type. (Note: I don't actually have a type.)
her: I don't understand. What is your type? How am I not that type?
me: I need to go buy some cigarettes at this Walgreens now.
(I hoped she would go away but she did not. She followed me into Walgreens, giving me a death stare.)
her: So, what is it?
me: uhhh, uhhh, bullshit, bullshit, uhhh, uhhh, more bullshit.
her: You can put your hand down now.
(During the two to three minutes of trying to answer her question without devastating her, I had my hand up trying to hail her a cab.)
me: Oh okay.
her: So, why?
me: more of the same stammering.
her: Whatever.
(She gets a cab.)
I then teach myself the life lesson not to go out with another ugly chick.
After relating my three date stories, Lauren tells me that I'm actually her second match dot com date. She went on one the previous night. I resist the temptation to tell her that I had a date earlier that day. She continues and tells me that the date went okay, but not great. Basically, the dude was really into her. He text messaged her every day for a week, leading up to the actual first date. Stuff like, "What are you doing?", "What's for dinner?", "Sounds good, I'm having pasta.", "Good night. See you in three days." Haha, pathetic. And I know pathetic. Also prior to the date, Lauren mentioned to the dude how she really wanted to see Slumdog Millionaire. But obviously, going to a movie on a first date is stupid. Lauren and I agreed how a movie should be, like, fourth or fifth date material. Sitting in complete silence with a stranger for two hours is lame. Sure, you can talk about the movie over dinner, but the movie is just a vehicle of conversation, similar to talking about the weather. He suggested going to a movie, she rejected the suggestion. I forgot what they actually did; it was probably nice, but nothing earth-shattering. Immediately after the date, he text messaged her good night. He also text messaged her the following day. The guy sounded amazingly awkward and I asked if I could be his friend. From that, Lauren slyly suggested that he wouldn't want to be my friend because I would be going on dates with her. Lauren was down with the dating machine.
At about 5:15pm, we left that bar for Buckshot. We were Buckshot's only customers. I paid for another round of wine because they did not accept credit cards. Lauren got angry at herself for not carrying cash and said she'd buy dinner. That was cool with me. At Buckshot, the flirting from Lauren went up a notch and she started touching me on the shoulder and hand. Never a good thing. I have a really fucked up attitude where if a chick is into me, there's something wrong with her. I don't know why I feel that way. I think I want a chick that is way too good for me and completely out of my league. The ideal course would be for the chick to show no emotion for the first two dates, and then divulge her burning desire on the third date. That would be good. I want a challenge, preferably someone who wants nothing to do with me.
Anyway, we start playing skeeball and, like an asshole, I tell her that there's absolutely no one way she'd ever win. I've probably played skeeball three times in life. I had no chance of winning, but I like to talk shit. At one point, she hit a 50 point shot. I verbally hyped myself and told her that I perform well under pressure. Amazingly, I also hit a 50. Somehow, I won the first game, but not by much. She wanted a rematch. In the second game, she started off super hot and I started very poorly. After about six balls, she had a fat lead. There were three balls left. I told her to bowl her last three balls so I knew what I'd need to score. She did and I needed two 100 points scores and a 20 point score. I hit exactly that. I was amazed, she was amazed; though, the difference is I think she got a little wet. Haha, probably not.
We had another round at Buckshot and she started to loosen up a bit. As a result, she got kinda loud. This chick is not a quiet individual. I laugh pretty loudly, and she was par with that. She also enjoyed talking super loud. It was unattractive. She went from having a good shot at a second date (say, a 5 or 6 on a 10-scale) to a poor shot (a 2). Soon, more people came in and started cheering along with the football game. She started cheering too, quite loudly, which was followed by her asking me what happened. Lame. Or maybe I'm just being too sensitive.
We left Buckshot and walked towards the original King of Thai on Clement. The original King of Thai no longer exists. The location has been taken over by some Taiwan restaurant. We settled for King of Thai 2, which is a block away from the original location. I ordered pad see eww and she order tom kah gai. I didn't taste her shit because I dislike soup, but my shit had about one to two tablespoons too much soy sauce. That shit was gross. Coupled with Lauren's loud behavior and my poorly made pad see eww, I just wanted to go home and arrange more match dot com dates. Or check out some porno. When the check came, we found out that they didn't accept credit cards. Lauren profusely apologized and I paid for dinner too. This date was only getting better and better. After finishing dinner, I asked what she wanted to do next. She said it was still early (8pm), so she said we should go somewhere else. For some reason, I agreed and we made our way to Amber because I wanted to smoke indoors.
Amber was closed and since she had previously mentioned how she loved The Mint, we went to The Mint. The Mint also does not accept credit cards. This was getting hilarious. However, in a fucking awesome move, Lauren said "fuck this" and went to the ATM. She couldn't let me pay for another drink. That was kinda awesome. She submitted a song for the karaoke; I don't remember the song because I have a horrible memory. She told me about how she's heavily into her choir group. But not because she's into church, rather she loves singing. That's pretty cool, I thought. She talked a little about her job, which involved doing analysis of stocks, margin calls, and mergers. And how her current project is analyzing the possible outcomes of Citigroup's merging of its Smith Barney unit with Merrill Lynch. Pretty high; I like that shit. I told her that I didn't have a job, and she didn't seem to mind. It was at this point that she stopped drinking because she had enough. That's when I pulled the old rape move. I will, in the future, always call it the old rape move. I told her "Yeah, you should stop drinking, otherwise I might try to rape you." Yes, my hand was on her thigh. Again, it's funnier that way. She laughed pretty hard and was kinda into it. I told her that she should call up the dude from last night so we could have an elimidate-style date. Point blank, she said, "Why would I do that? You know you'd win." Wow. That was kinda awesome. I then upgraded her to a 3.
Finally, after nearly two hours of waiting (it was about 10pm), her song came on. I was glad because, even though I was having fun and we had fairly good chemistry, I just wanted to go home. She sang. I think I might've got a hard on. All I could think was, "Damn, that chick is hot. Her voice is fucking amazing. That is a fucking good singing voice. I want to have sex with that." So, yeah, I was pretty turned on. I love good voices. I've never went on a date to a karaoke place and had no idea her singing would have this effect on me. Even though she was, at times, loud and annoying, I was super down. I then officially upgraded her to an 6. Ridiculous. When she got off stage, I put my arm around her and told her that that was really hot and that I was a little turned on. Then I said, "That was really hot" about three more times. Smooth, dating machine. I think she was glad to hear that because I had stopped flirting for the second half of the date. And due to the renewed reciprocation, she put her arm around me. I need to watch out for ugly girls who can sing. I'm not saying that Lauren is ugly. I'm just saying I need to watch out. I'm a sucker for some things.
We decided to leave The Mint and have sex. I'm kidding. I drove her back to her car, which was parked over in the Embarcadero district. During the ride, she put her chin on my shoulder, which is one of the dumbest things you can do as a passenger on a scooter. Scooters occasionally hit bumps, which would cause her to potentially lose her tongue. Also, she was snuggled up mad close to me. My knees were touching the front of my scooter. It's very hard to ride like that. But whatever, that was a hot-ass singing performance. I didn't give a shit. We made it to her car, we both got off, and we arranged a second date for next weekend. We also kissed. Just a couple pecks, no tongue. I got back on my scooter and rode home, all the while thinking of a way where I could work in some singing into the next date. And maybe some sex. That would be nice too.
Fun - 6
Interesting - 7
Future Relationship Potential - 6
Future Friendship Potential - 5
That was a long recap. Thanks for reading. Sorry about the ever-changing tenses.
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