The XXXX Date Part I

For many single Christians (who desire to be in a long term relationship) there is a mechanism somewhere in their chest that consists of a biological clock inside of a pressure cooker, powered by a hypoglycemic rodent on a hamster wheel.  As each year (for some singles, their biological clock counts in days rather than years) of single life elapses, the person’s biological clock ticks a bit faster.  Also, the endorphins your body releases while on dates, act as sugar for the hypoglycemic rodent, the more dates you go on, the more you can regulate your rodent’s blood sugar.  However, the more infrequent the dates, the lower the rodent’s blood sugar.  Thus, the rodent runs the wheel at an irregular pace, often collapsing, which causes the pressure levels of your pressure cooker to dramatically fluctuate, thus causing your biological clock to tick in a frighteningly unpredictable manner.  What truly complicates this phenomenon is the nerve line that connects directly from the clock to your brain.  The irregular clock ticks send a distress signal to your brain, which scientists have been able to translate, in the last year, to mean, “GET MARRIED NOW!  GO ON DATES AT ANY COST, WITH ANYONE! NOW!”  I am not sure that the process I just outlined is a scientific fact.  However, it is the only rationalization I could come up with to explain why people go on dates with their ex-girlfriends and ex-boyfriends. 

A few weeks ago, one of my good friends, Don, asked me, “Would it be too awkward for us to go on a double date with our ex-girlfriends?”  I paused for a second, then said, “No man, that’s not awkward at all.  It’s totally normal.  What’s weird about that?”  I took another pause for those words to sink in, then said, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? Yes, yes, that would definitely be awkward.  WHO DOES THAT!?”  Apparently, because I failed to specify that this endeavor would be “too” awkward, I hadn’t given my friend a firm “No.”  Thus, I got a text from him a few days later saying, “So do you want to go?  I need to get back to the girls* with an answer.”  Now, I am not the best speller and will sometimes change what I would like to say via text, because I am having trouble spelling the particular SAT vocabulary word I want to (annoyingly) use in my texts.  However, by now, I have mastered the spelling of the word “no.”  But, for some reason, unrelated to spelling, I couldn’t write that.  You could probably argue that I haven’t been feeding my rodent with enough date induced endorphins.  Thus, I was open to a date of any kind, even if it was with one of my exes.  You could probably also argue that it was Don’s birthday and I was feeling guilty about how little time I had spent with Don in the past few months as well as how I hadn’t done anything for his birthday.  You could also argue that I am a little too eager get new material for this blog.  Anyway, I texted back, “I guess I’m in.  Happy Birthday!” 

I found myself standing in front of my mirror for thirty minutes trying desperately to figure out what to wear.  My first outfit was far too casual.  I didn’t want to look like I was a little kid.  My next outfit was way too formal.  I definitely did not want to look like I was trying to impress anyone or like I cared too much about this date!  My next outfit was worn far too many times during my relationship with my ex.  I certainly did not want to inspire any nostalgia that could have otherwise been avoided.  Finally, I remembered how ridiculous this entire situation was and how completely unnecessary my strategic wardrobe obsession was.  So I picked an outfit and walked out the door. 

I walked into the “totally Christian-friendly-nonalcoholic-watering-hole” and found all three of them already seated at a table, almost as if they actually were scheming an even more outlandish way for me to go against my personal dating rules* and further intensify the discomfort of the situation.  Suspicious as I was, I sat down and ordered a “milkshake.”  If I didn’t have an understanding of the nature of my “lactose-intolerance” I would have said something along the lines of, “I may need a few more of these “milkshakes” to be comfortable with this.”  To my surprise, conversation actually, was going quite smoothly.  Then it happened…we stopped talking about the weather. 

It wasn’t as if all hell broke loose, though I was certainly racking my limited knowledge of Greek mythology, in desperate search of a fabled remedy for the hoard of titans that would inevitably be released from the mouths of our exes.  While, neither Hercules, nor Ryan Gosling (young Hercules) was on hand to save the day, we slowly began to feel more assured of our safety (or at least Don appeared to feel that way).  I, on the other, was not as easily assuaged.  The “onslaught” was subtle and covert.  Conversations that started out naturally would slowly turn into a series of references to things that happened or conversations that took place during our past relationships.  Fortunately for me, my ex-girlfriend and I had been broken up for over a year, so few if any relationship references were made towards me.  Unfortunately for Don, he and his girlfriend had been broken up for just over a month, so almost every conversation included some sort of referential parade of every event that ever took place during his relationship with his girlfriend. 

At one point the ladies got up to go to the bathroom.  I leaned over to Don and said, “This is where they plan there attack.”  We had a brief huddle, discussing our respective comfort/tolerance levels.  Just as we were about to settle on a code word that would initiate an emergency exit strategy, the women were back at the table staring at us.  They had to have sensed that something was awry.  There was no way that joint-female-bathroom session could have been completed quickly!  More time and conversation passed without them attempting to kill us or force us to marry them and before I knew it we were paying the bill and putting on our jackets.  I quickly and publicly offered Don a ride, (he doesn’t have a car) so that his girlfriend would not have a chance to offer him one.  With that we rode off into the sunset … happy … unattached … unscathed … cordial … or so we thought …

*(The women are now house mates {yes, this scenario is even less optimal than we thought before})

*(Rule #5: Don’t go on dates with your ex/exes, especially not at the same time)