Dying of Embarrassment

The Plinky prompt for March 08, 2011: Share a story about your worst date ever. What went wrong?

Here’s just one of my bad First Dates. I’ll call the man “T” in this version. It’s about 1981 or so. T comes to my house to pick me up for the date. We walk to his car. He goes to the driver’s side, I go to the passenger side.

He gets in. I wait outside the passenger door. I wait. I wait. He leans over and opens the door.

I die of embarrassment, right then and there.

What went wrong? What when wrong was that I was (and am) a Creature of Habit. I was waiting to hear the click of the door unlocking. The problem was, the door wasn’t locked.

And why was I waiting for that? It was the fault of my best friend, Becky. She had a 1979 Pontiac Firebird. We went everywhere in that car. I can still remember the license plate number. Well, as it was Becky’s car, she drove, I rode. And I learned to go to the passenger door and wait for the click of her unlocking the door with the power door locks. No big deal. Wait, click, open door, get in. A million times over, that was my routine.

Then I go on the first date with T who did not drive a 1979 Pontiac Firebird or any other car with power door locks.

It’s a wonder he didn’t just drive off, leaving me standing at the spot where his unlocked passenger door had been. He didn’t leave me. It was worth so much more to him to tease me about standing outside the passenger door.

But I’m over it now . . . mostly.



2 thoughts on “Dying of Embarrassment

  1. In a previous generation, you would have been standing at that door waiting for the “gentleman” to open it for you. Having him lean across and open it from the driver’s seat would have seemed oh, so crass and vulgar. And you would have had ammunition with which to fire back at him. Ah, well, wrong place, wrong generation. Or just a different perspective.

  2. What an idiot! Not you, him. I don’t care if it was 1981, 1951 or even 2011, it is absolutely uncalled for that a guy wouldn’t open the door for his date. If I would have done that, and my mom found out, I’d of had a permanent mark on the side of my head. And if my son ever does that, he will have a permanent mark on the side of his head!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s