Call of the Wild

There was the juggler who felt compelled to bring little balls with him everywhere. Then there was the crier, weeping with sensitive aplomb about every mishap of his misbegotten life. Oh, and we can’t forget the guy just out of prison who swore to me from the doorway of his halfway house, that I made him “want to be a better man.” I almost forgot the waiter with a wang the size of my forearm and a lisp that was even bigger. Both were a little overwhelming.

To be fair, I was often the source of horror on dates. I remember one night in particular. Everything had gone well and I was getting a bit hot and heavy with a gorgeous young man who’d captured my interest on several levels. I thought perhaps we should slow it down, as I had decided I’d like to see him again. I whispered into his ear with sultry elegance, “Let’s stop, I think I’m going too far.” To my shock, he started shaking with laughter. I stood up, staring and embarrassed. At my look, he repeated, “You think you’re going to fart?” I don’t know about you, but if I were him, I would have rated the girl who whispered sweet nothings of oncoming flatulence as horror date number one.

The dreaded dates continued until the first date with my husband. That’s not to say that the date with him was a good one. It was probably the worst. He wouldn’t look at me, barely spoke, and ordered two tankers of beer at dinner. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was his horror date and the only thing that would help him through the night were beer goggles. I prepared a hasty retreat from the chronic awkwardness when he did something wholly unexpected. He laughed. At my last ditch effort towards civil social intercourse … he laughed, and he had the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. I suddenly realized that he wasn’t miserable with me—he was just miserably shy.

I often think about that horror date and wonder how many men in my past were written off because I didn’t have the patience to see the good beneath the bizarre exterior. And then I’m comforted to know that my husband was likely a horror date for many women, and he finally found his wildebeest who was tired enough so that her exhaustion lent her the patience to wait around and see through the bad.

So boys and girls, that’s my insight into the wild kingdom of dating—it’s a jungle out there, and eventually, you’re going to go down … and likely it will be during a horror date.