Ehren Ruins A Potentially Tender Moment

Perhaps the most amusing moment in existence is when a guy makes his first pass at physical contact. I’m a firm believer that over-thinking, especially on a date, is death. Despite that, I still sometimes get caught up in that split-second moment of panic where my brain screams, “Touch her, you tool! No, you missed your window! Uh-oh, now she’s looking at you. Better say something smooth, quick!”

Ehren: So…what kind of…floss…do you use?
Girl: Umm…
Ehren: Cool…Want to…make out?

I always thought that the old subterfuge move of “pretending to yawn and putting your arm around her” was completely lame. First of all, no one ever believes that it’s an accident or unintentional. Second, the whole point is to let her know you want to touch her. And lastly, there’s no way to pull it off without looking like a complete tool.

In my book, you get extra points for just going straight out and announcing your intentions. Which is why I use the line, “OK, you’ve successfully wooed me with your wily female charms. I’m putting my arm around you.”

Of course, I don’t always remember that. Sometimes I’m actually quick-witted enough to do something smoother and less transparent. Then again, there are times that I lack even the mental where-with-all to remember that simple, fail-proof line. Here’s the story of one such occasion.

I was on a date with an attractive girl I met through a mutual friend. Seeing as how said friend was probably the worst hook-up proprietor in history, I was forced to take matters into my own hands. It was the dreaded “First Date” situation, where both of us pretended to laugh at each others’ jokes and tried to hide our obvious discomfort about being locked in a car with a total stranger.

The night went moderately well. I’m not really a “date guy.” I don’t like to talk all the time…unless I’m drunk, and then God knows what the fuck will coming shooting out of my mouth. On the other hand, I also try to cover-up uncomfortable silences. But having nothing to say, I wind up with the lamest conversations. Like, “So…You ever eat…things” or “Hey…remember that show…‘Family Ties’?” or “have you ever…seen...those pink shirts? What’s the deal with that?”

Look, some women find it charming and adorable. Not most women. But my target women do: the ones who drool and wear helmets. I need a shirt that says, “Irresistible to Retards.”

On a scale of 1-10, the evening had been a 4. I was occasionally amusing, generally sweet and pretty good at preventing my eyes from rolling up into my skull when she spoke. To me, that's a solid win.

At the end of the night, there was an awkward moment as the car rolled to a stop outside the door.

“So” she said, after a moment of nervous silence. “I had a really great time.”
“Yeah, me too.” I replied, flashing her what I hoped was a cool smile. “We should do this again.”

There was another second of silence and then a couple things happened at once.

1. She decided that one way or another she was going to get a goodnight kiss. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward to plant one on me
2. I decided to put an arm around her and kiss her.

I was sitting in the driver’s seat, and with my right arm swinging up, I wasn’t prepared for my target to move closer. There was no time adjust my trajectory. With her eyes closed, she had no chance at spotting my arm swinging up in a tight, quick arc. There was an audible CRACK as the front of my hand landed squarely across her mouth.

Basically, I pimp-slapped her.

“OW!!!” she yelped, grabbing her mouth and leaping backwards. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” I answered, trying my best not to dissolve in laughter. “It worked for Bobby Brown.”