Let me pause my story for a quick history lesson. About eight years ago, annoyed by the fact that we'd never had one single fight or even an argument, Jesse and I installed a "one major rumble per year" clause to our friendship. I now took his bold statement as the perfect opportunity to commence Buddy Brawl 2006. Fifteen minutes later, as I braced myself for yet another lash of Jesse's bicycle bungee cord, I began to wonder whether my wonderfully psychotic life partner could be speaking the truth. Did I actually suck at dating? And if I did, what could I do about it? After much thinking…and icing…I came up with a plan.
A few days later I found myself wandering the halls of my beloved McGill education building carrying my student ID, a few copies of some previous articles I'd written for a variety of magazines (credentials, you see), and a "date evaluation form" I had created. You see, my brilliant plan was to approach three random, attractive girls and, while hiding behind some fake reporter facade – no wait, this time the facade was not fake at all – ask for one single evening of their time for a dating-skills interview of sorts. (Cue the rush of light-bulbed boys to the nearest female hang out spot.)
After giving myself a few pep talks, I finally mustered up the nerve to pitch this unlikely story to an unsuspecting individual, only to be shot down with a giggle and a "No thanks." The next try went no better. In fact, the "Nice try" response was much worse. Almost ready to abandon ship and try to salvage what was left of my diminishing ego, I decided to give it one last try. With my last nerves, I approached an insanely adorable woman (so out of my league) who was sitting alone in the corner of the library. As I approached my potential date, I noticed that she happened to be reading the very same book that I'd been enjoying earlier that week: Memoirs of a Geisha.
"Did you know that book was actually written by a man?" I asked nervously.
"Ummm…ya…I assumed Arthur Golden [the name on the book's front cover] was not a woman."
Touché! She was definitely a keeper.
Ten minutes later, I had set up my first "eval-a-date" with Amie, a 19-year-old former prom queen from Edmonton. Feeling more confident, I quickly managed to pencil in date number two with Genevieve: a 21-year-old French Canadian studying elementary education by day and pursuing acting at night. Later that day, after a few more "you wish" brush-offs, Erin – a 19-year-old dancer from Toronto – was happy to jump on board.
With the hard part behind me (hopefully) and next weekend all booked up, I have nothing left to do but decide on the right outfits, stress about the impending verdict…and maybe guerilla-attack Jesse, in a purely un-sexual way I swear, while he sleeps.
Continued soon.... Same bat-time on same bat-site
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