My Life In Stories: Worst Date Ever
We went to church together and I had been eyeing him for months. Even though I have always had a fairly good self-esteem, I was terrible at flirting. I had a hard time with eye contact. I had a hard time playing cute. I had a hard time letting a boy in on the secret that I liked him. So, for a long time I sat back and watched from afar.
Kendall was "my type" (which is funny considering I didn't marry "my type" and I'm the better for it). He had dark hair and was tall and athletic and all those things the girls go gaga over. Even better, he was nice to everyone and didn't sell security systems door to door. I was never pretty enough for the pretty boys.
If I'm being honest, I was
too much of a rebel for this good, Mormon boy. I wore tight clothes and skipped class to go bridge jumping. He got straight A's and had the right answer in Sunday School. Although I was completely aware of the differences in us, I aspired to be good, and in aspiring to be good, I aspired to date the good guy.
He liked it when I sang and played my guitar, I liked it when he smiled at me. I tried to make dinner for him. He grinned through the chewy, semi-undercooked beef roast. Things went on like this for what seemed like forever.
Then, one balmy springtime day, he called.
He wanted to go dirt biking out at the sand dunes.
VICTORY!
He may or may not have been asking as a friend. I didn't know. I didn't care. I got to spend time with him without other people, so in my mind- it was a date!
I went to class that morning and afterward grabbed some Sonic for lunch and ran home to carefully select my outfit. Casual enough to dirt-bike in, but still fantastically cute. Something to say "I think I'm fabulous, so you should too!"
Ultimately I chose distressed jeans and a fitted blue hoodie.
He picked me up in his truck and we headed off in to the great, sandy unknown.
He handed me his extra helmet and I jumped on the back of his dirt bike.
I was having a blast, the only stinky part was that my quads hurt since there was nowhere to rest my feet and I was desperately trying to keep them from dragging through the sand or getting caught in the wheel.
Then, all of a sudden, I realized I was feeling queasy.
"Shake it off!" I told myself. "You like this guy! You are FINE! Take a deep breath and think yourself out of being motion sick!"
The fighting within my brain continued for another few minutes.
At some point, my quads and my stomach just couldn't take it any more and I tapped his arm to let him know I wanted to take a break. That's when, as they say, "The poo hit the fan."
I got off the bike and took a deep breath.
Then something to the effect of "I'm not gonna lie, I am not feeling so great" came out of my mouth.
And I knew I was gonna hurl.
I started walking away, hoping he wouldn't notice or something? I'm not sure what was actually going on in my brain, I was so focused on the fact that I knew I was gonna barf and I didn't want to.
I wish that I could just stop typing right now.
But, that wouldn't be funny , and what comes up next is pretty funny.
But, that wouldn't be funny , and what comes up next is pretty funny.
To my horror (and probably yours as you read this), my sonic burger made a second appearance. The worst part of it was........
I had his helmet on. You know, the kind with the face mask that goes right in front of your mouth? Yeah, that kind. So, I threw up in my hand.... which was in the helmet trying to block the puke from getting in the face mask....
Kendall was just staring at me, not quite sure what to do.
I wanted the sand dunes to open up and swallow me whole, leaving no trace of the puke covered (not to mention humiliated) girl I had just become. I cringe thinking about it, even 8 years later.
I pulled my sweatshirt off and we headed back to the truck, with Kendall apologizing the whole time. The ride home was beyond awkward, since I'm sure I stunk like barf and really, what do you talk about after you've just vomited in your date's helmet?
Needless to say, sparks didn't really fly between us after that. I blew it. Actually, I blew chunks, which is most likely worse than blowing it. Kendall was so nice about the whole thing, really. He didn't even tell his roommates because he said he didn't want to embarrass me. How nice is that? I would have yukked it up with half the county if I'd been in his situation. But, there again, is the difference between he and I.
Proof that we never would have worked anyway, so at least I get a funny story out of it.
And, I win the crown for the worst date ever.
