My date with Starbucks Guy had turned into a fucking job interview. And I was the interviewer. I so blew it.
The most decent, attractive man I have met in, literally, years, and I interview him? Are you kidding me? I am beyond humiliated. I haven’t been this beyond humiliated since I fell off the stage at church right after singing a beautiful, reverent Christmas hymn in front of my entire ward at BYU. And they laughed! They actually laughed. It was supposed to be the year-end culmination celebrating the fact that finals were almost over. Oh and our devotion to Jesus. But my point is, they laughed! Christianity at its finest.
Anyway, so he walks me out to my car. I say, “I had a great time – it was really nice meeting you.”
That’s when he says, (he truly, honestly says this, by the way, I’m not exaggerating), he says, “I’ll call you.”
I know, right??
I mean, I know I blew it, but “I’ll call you” blew it?
I didn’t chew with my mouth full, because we weren’t eating; I didn’t blow my nose, because it isn’t allergy season; I didn’t tell him how many kids I want, because I don’t want any, and I didn’t fish for a compliment by saying, “I should have ordered the fat free latte, because I have got to lose weight.”
It was really “I’ll call you” bad?
After he tells me he’ll call me, he gives me another hug (what the fuck?) and starts walking back to his condo.
All I could think as he walked away was: 1. That I blew it; 2. That I would never hear from him again; and 3. I’m glad he had hot coffee and I’m glad he’s walking home and I hope he gets even more “gross sweaty” before he gets home and ends up meeting the girl of his dreams and she doesn’t even glance at him once she realizes he’s “gross sweaty” and by the time he gets home he’s depressed and questioning all of his life’s decisions.
Clearly, I’m not Christianity at its finest, and I’m ok with that. It was never one of my goals anyway.