yellowducky's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "neither fish nor fowl nor good red herring" I had the worst date of my life last night. Hands down, no competition, the worst. Remember the guy who took me out a few weeks ago. The "not the brightest banana in the bunch"? Against my instincts, I went out with Monkeyman again. Because my Dad is a traitor and always sticks up for the guys I date, I went out with Monkeyman again. Because my Mom is so anxious for grandchildren and lectures me about not being so picky, I went out with Monkeyman again. Because Flyboy (the pilot) keeps asking me about my friends instead of asking me out, I went out with Monkeyman again. Monkeyman called on Wed. and invited me out to dinner. Great. I've never had a truly bad date. Some I've enjoyed less than others, but I can always find some way to entertain myself, so I accepted. Guess who calls while I was getting ready! Flyboy, wanting to know if I was doing anything that night. I think he heard my teeth grind together in frustration. I told him I already had plans, but a group was getting together for a bonfire in the desert the next night. He asked what my plans were. I told him I was going out to dinner. With who? A date. He didn't ask any further questions. We flirted for the next half hour until my date arrived (he's my favorite person to flirt with). My hair was still a puff ball and I told him it was his fault I was going to have to keep my date waiting. He laughed. So, I answer the door. Tell my date I'm almost ready, tame my hair, and within five minutes have returned. He has firmly ensconced himself on the couch in front of the television and won't move! He sat there from 6:30 pm until 10:30 pm. Freakin' Day! I had my coat on, standing beside the couch. I eventually sat on the chair furthest away from him while he drooled through "America's Funniest Home Videos" and "Dominoe Day 2001" (I still don't get it). Then, a program came on ABC about children in foster care and the legal system. It was called, "Why Don't the Children Have a Voice." Well, nothing is calculated to make me passionate more quickly than children's issues. Of course, it was also perfect for my passive aggressive personality. I could rant and rave about the way children are treated and get out my frustration at Monkeyboy! I threw a beautiful temper tantrum, and he sat there laughing at me. I asked him what he was passionate about, and he looked at me like I'd just asked him to spell antidisestablishmentarian backwards. At 10:00 I politely asked him to leave because I had to work today. He looked at me and said, "huh". I said, "I have to get up at 6:00 am and go to work. I'd like to go to bed now." He said, "Really?" I said, "Yes". Thirty minutes later he actually stood up and left. He only did so because I tried out a little theory. I picked up the remote and turned off the television. It was as if I had flipped a switch. The drone stood up and left. I'm not baseball, you don't get three strikes with my life. Monkeyboy is out. 8:38 a.m. - December 29, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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