I really enjoy when movies put one of the ending scenes first and then do a record scratch and have a voiceover that comes in and says “I bet you’re wondering how I got here”. So, picture this, I am sprinting to the doors to get out of Alamo Drafthouse and the second I get outside I start screaming like Jeanie in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Full-blown losing it.

Okay.

“I bet you’re wondering how I got here” lmaoooo but for real, let’s start from the beginning…

It’s the morning of the date and I text John asking what the plans are for this evening and he did that lovely fuckboy move of “you tell me” no buddy, that’s why I asked you. YOU tell ME. Call me old-fashioned but I expect a boy to have a pretty decent plan in mind when he asks a girl out, don’t ask someone out and hit ’em with the “oh idk whatever you wanna do lol” you can take that indecisiveness and shove it. It’s a turn-off. It’s lazy. And rule of thumb whoever asks out the other person- has a plan. That was not the case for tonight.

But regardless, I was set that I would be going on this date, so I brushed it off and made the plan and then strike two- he texts me informing me I’ll be paying for my own ticket.

Lovely.

But again, I brush it off and give this boy the benefit of the doubt. We make plans to meet at Alamo Drafthouse an hour before the movie starts to walk around and talk, cute right? (That’s not sarcasm btw, I was genuinely kinda excited.) I get there at 9:20 (10 minutes early) and get a text saying he’s running late, which is actually kind of a relief because boy do I need a drink to calm the nerves and Alamo Drafthouse conveniently houses a bar. Yay! So, I go in to buy my ticket and then a drink, and I watch some comedic karaoke going on and I’m starting to feel more excited by the minute, and just maybe this will be really fun.

He calls me saying he’s arrived and I let him know I’m at the entrance and he almost walks right past me at first then stops and makes a clear disappointed expression, which kinda hurts my feelings, but I get it. As a plus-size lady I’m not new to this. And as open as I am with what I look like on my social media, boys tend not to be as stalker-y as us ladies before first dates, so okay fine. He says “I guess let’s walk around” and starts walking away from me pretty quickly, which I mean man do you think you’re Ryan Gosling? You are certainly not. And frankly I’m also disappointed you’re way more photogenic than life-genic, but I am not making a scene. Ugh.

But he seems to chill and we start talking and Donald Trump comes up (when does he not, honestly) and he said “well some people speculate he’s mentally ill” and I responded “well I think a brain injury is still on the table” and he retorts “I suffered a severe brain injury. I was in a coma for a long time. I almost died.”

He proceeds to pull out his phone and show me pictures of the car wreck and go into detail of the traumatic incident for 45 minutes. And in these 45 minutes he lets me know it was a drunk driver that hit him. He then asks if I drink, and I respond “yeah, actually was drinking right before you got here. I mean not a ton. I wasn’t drunk or anything. I’m sorry?” yeah. awkward.

I think it may be a bit too darkly (is that a word?) ironic to do any drinking game cues in this blog, so um yeah. Take a shot of orange juice every time you’re uncomfortable reading this?

We get back to Alamo Drafthouse and he gets his ticket and we head to the theater and on the way he lets me know “he has and will never drink any alcohol, nor will he drink coffee.” (Still don’t know how those two are related, but okay.) We get to our seats and apparently the traumatic show & tell is only just beginning as he starts going through in detail what happened to all his internal organs and describing his feeding tube as well as his spleen bleeds that were frequent apparently.

He then says, what may be the quote of the night “If you’re lucky enough to get my shirt off, I’ll show you more of my scars and tell you about them, did I tell you about my spleen already? And the tube that nourished me?” Fuck me.

Previews begin and he calls the waiter to order a plate of meatballs. Yep, plate of balls. And when he gets them first he asks “hey do you want one? I’ll give you a meatball?” I decline his balls. Then he starts chewing loud af, and I’m not usually one to be bothered by people’s chewing, but fuck man. CLOSE YOUR MOUTH WHILE EATING YOUR BALLS. Wait yeah that might be the quote of the night^.

Thor starts and honestly I’m really into it! I’m not a huge Marvel fan, but I’m def enjoying Chris Hemsworth destroy shit. He then comes down with a cold sporadically and he somehow has gotten dozens of tissues and starts aggressively blowing his nose and what do you call it when you’re gargling in the back of your throat about to get snot out your mouth? You get it. It becomes more and more frequent until I start counting. 37 times. Blew his nose and made those nasty snot sounds 37 times. And I told myself. 5 more times and you can leave, man.

*5 more nasty snot tissues later* I get up, tell him I have to go to the bathroom. Calmly walk down the aisle then BOOK IT. I’m sprinting out. And then we’re back to the screaming I described at the beginning. I pick up my almost dead phone and call my friend, Malia, and detail this to her and she’s laughing so hard and I’m again shocked that this, is my dating life.

I’m not a complete asshole, so I texted him something like “I’m so so sorry my friend broke up with her boyfriend and I need to go hang out with her stat.” Wasn’t my best bullshit excuse, but hey.

Until next time ❤