Ehren Attacks The Dating World

I expect to be completely free later tonight. Why? Because I have a date at 7:30. I honestly have no idea how people go through this whole “dating” thing. As near as I can tell, it’s a complete train wreck waiting to happen. This is why I’ve made it my mission for the night to be the conductor, not the cow in the middle of the tracks.

After some reflection, I realized that the reason most dates seem like the social equivalent of being tortured by Inquisition members is because both parties are trying to impress the other person. How do they try to do this? By being polite, normal, and even-tempered. In my experience, girls hate guys like that. By trying to exude those qualities, I completely miss any chance of being fun, unique or original. So since I’ve no choice but to submit to dating hell, I might as well get some good writing material out of this.

I’ve made two columns. The first are standard date activities. The second are most likely to be my actions for the night:

Standard Date	Ehren's Date
Show up at date's house in freshly washed car.	Sprint desperately up to house in deshelved clothes carrying a full-grown pig. Throw myself in the front door and cautiously peak out the window. "If anyone asks, you never saw that pig!"
Take date to nice restaurant for food	Take date to theme restaurant. Order an obscene portion of food. Preferably an if-you-can-finish-it-it's-free offer.
Pay for everything.	When the check arrives, eye my date and ask, "How fast can you run?" Make a break for the nearest window. If needed, throw plate, chair, or nearby diner through the glass first.
Over a few drinks, discuss political topics of the day.	Get embaressingly drunk over pints of mead at a grog house. Loadly yell about "Why I'm going to take Tommy Jenkins other eye too if he welches on another bet." Wave knife menacingly.
Over soft music on the ride home, make plans for next date.	Blast Slayer albums at high volumes, while driving like a maniac. Demand to know if she'll meet me at the abandoned quarry next full moon. Demand that she come alone and not wear silver.
Perfunctory kiss on the cheek.	Yell, "Oh my God!!! It's that pig-stealing frame-up artist, Tommy Jenkins!!!" When she looks, attempt to get my entire tongue, tonsils and digestive tract down her throat.

I figure if nothing else, that will make for a memorable evening. Besides, aren’t women always saying that they’re looking for unique, good-looking rebels who play by their own rules? That’s me, baby! Don’t mind the fire, honey. I won’t let you get burned.