Many of you know that I am currently taking an Autobiographical Writing class. Each week I have to submit two pieces, and honestly, thinking back upon some of these stories has totally made me laugh. If you knew me in college, you either heard this story, or lived it with me…but it is an all-time favorite.
When you’re single, it often is a hobby for friends, coworkers, acquaintances, and strangers to “set you up.” Everyone has a friend, neighbor, cousin, or brother that would be “perfect for you” and you should “give him/her a chance.”
While this proposition was made to me more than once, I decided to give in my sophomore year. My sorority was hosting a semiformal and my boyfriend at the time was enrolled in military school, over four hours away. Since everyone else had a date and we were going in groups, the other girls decided it would be best to set me up on a blind date. Rhonda (coincidentally my alter-ego…I had her ID until I turned 21) mentioned that her boyfriend had a fraternity brother that would be fun to take to the event.
On the night of the formal I waited as each of the girls were picked up — an hour and a half passed, and I wonder if he was going to come at all. The doorbell rang and I opened the door to find a very drunk, shaggy looking guy on my doorstep.
“You ready?”, he asked.
I could have feigned sickness, I could have simply turned him away. Instead I grabbed my keys and ushered him to my car – he certainly wasn’t driving anywhere.
We went to a restaurant to meet up with some of my friends, including Rhonda, who had set us up. During the course of dinner, he ordered a number of drinks, shots, beers, and also pulled a flask from his suit jacket. He offered up conversation on a variety of “dinner appropriate topics” – his favorite porn stars, the Dukes of Hazzard, and hunting. He then proceeded to order the most expensive item on the menu.
I assumed that since we had never met before, we would be splitting the check – wrong! He handed it to me, and simply shrugged his shoulders.
We left the restaurant and drove to his fraternity house, where we could park my car and take a cab.
Once again, Mr. Moneysaver suggested that we “walk” to save money on a cab. Mind you, it had rained all day and the street was flooded.
Against my better judgement, we started walking to the formal, which was only a few blocks away. Suddenly, he stopped on the street, turned towards a row of bushes, unzipped his pants and relieved himself. I kept walking (after all, what could I do?) and he followed.
Finally, we arrived at the formal. He excused himself to go to the restroom, and I went inside to look for my friends. After about ten minutes, he returned and simply said, “Thanks for tonight – I’m going to catch up with my friends at the bar.”
And just like that he was gone.