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The year was 2004. I was on the rebound from a bad breakup.
It’s time for a thread.
It’s time for a thread.
As a (former) mormon on the prowl, I found a website called hot saints dot com. Unclear if it still exists, but it was like a shitty beta test of tinder w/a sliding scale for exactly *how* mormon you were (Molly Mormons are the extremists, Jack Mormon being more liberal).
I was a self-proclaimed Jack Mormon because I drank caffeine and said fuck. ~Very~ hard core. I decided to find myself another Jack Mormon to procure a fine meal with.
I met a dude named Rich... because of course it was. He was hot, but a total dumb dumb. I didn’t care for connection as much as distraction, so we set a date. After picking me up, he asks me if I had been nervous to meet somebody from the internet.
I feel it pertinent to mention here that I was wearing flip flops. No socks, just straight up flip flops. I assumed good old Rich knew this as well. To answer his question, I replied “no, I wasn’t nervous because I keep a ginormous knife in my sock for occasions like this”
I’m kind of an idiot at all times, I will make a joke about almost anything and based on the fact that I had no socks on.... assumed he knew I was joking. He did not. His eyes grew wide and he said “Wait, seriously?” and I just nodded in return.
We get to the restaurant which is Italian. The waiter hands us complimentary bread and tells us that in Italian tradition, no knives are served because friends break bread without weapons or some bull shit I would still like a fact check on.
I have already committed to this bit, so I exclaim “THANK GOD FOR MY SOCK KNIFE!” and Rich begins visibly, and some might say audibly, sweating. I’m eating said bread before he rushes off to take his first of three calls.
Each call lasts longer than the first and by the end of the meal, I have already assumed he’s going to abandon me. I’m eating great food, so I’m just mentally scanning candidates to pick me up as he finally shows back up to pay the tab.
He kinda hovers over the table as he hands the waiter his payment and he says an emergency came up, so he’s gotta take me home now instead of continuing on to a movie. I’m just grateful he was decent enough to get me back home after I clearly mortified this dude.
As we arrive back to my house, I hold up my bare foot and say “you know I was kidding about the knife shit right? I’m wearing flip flops!” and he forcibly laughs and says “yeahhhh well gotta go” and takes off. Before I’ve even gotten into my house, I get a text.
“Please don’t contact me again”, Rich said. And that is the story of how my inability to stop being a jackass scared a man to death.
Fin.
Fin.
