Worst Date Ever

I’m of the mindset that “guys” – in general – will never admit to having a “bad date” much less a “worst date” because it goes against our macho intellect. In fact, with the wisdom of time riding on my coat-tails, I’d go as far as saying that there are a couple of rules men will always adhere to: a man’s penis will always be at LEAST 10 inches longâÂ?¦a man can have sex for hours and hours, and a guy’s worst date? Never happened. Maybe to your best friend, but never, EVER to you.

But it’s all a smoke screen. Cuz deep inside we know better. We all know our “little buddy” may not be listed in the Guinness Book of World RecordsâÂ?¦.we know there have been times when your girlfriend-lover-wife thought you were just getting started when in fact you already went to sleepâÂ?¦and when no one is looking we pout just a little because we’ve had several dates that were so bad it’s difficult to distinguish just WHICH one ranks as the worst.

Sound familiar? Don’t sweat the small stuff pal, you’re in good company.

Of course, I laugh at it now – but back in the day you just didn’t brag about having a bad date. But I remember it well. It seems like just yesterdayâÂ?¦

I was getting ready to go into the military and had – thanks to the Delayed Entry Program – about 2 months free time on my hands. In case you’re wondering, the Delayed Entry program isn’t some Viagra-based therapy to cure Premature Ejaculation. It’s the military’s way of guaranteeing you a job and an enlistment, but allows you to wait awhile before heading off to Basic TrainingâÂ?¦time to take care of seemingly important things like break up with your sweetheart of whatever. But I digress.

I’d met a young girl. I’ll call her Rosebud, who I’m sure “inside” was a great person. Trouble was, that inner-beauty never really got a chance shine. Or maybe it did, but I just didn’t notice. The truth of the matter was, she had a cute body, and I had about two months to set things straight (if you know what I mean and I think you do). Trouble was, this girl was watched-dogged by her mother in a way I’d never imagined. That is until I got married 25 years later and had a daughter of my own.

Well, I’d been dating Rosebud (a fictitious name to protect the innocent) for about a month and her Mom’s wasn’t ever far behind. It became a game of cat and mouse between us: me constantly trying to spend time with the daughter, while Mom did her darnedest to intervene. One Saturday I volunteered to help Rosebud organize her younger brother’s birthday party. Figured it was a great way to score points with the mother. Six or seven hours later, after all was said and down âÂ?¦Rosebud and I took a breather on the front porch swing. I was just getting ready to subtly ram my tongue down her throat when who shows up – her mother! And guess what – she WAS impressed. I DID score points with her and now she decides to talk to me about how pleased she was with my “sudden maturity”.

In the meantime the clock is tickingâÂ?¦it’s getting late. I had hoped to drive out to the beach and make “angles” in the sand with Rosebud. But no. This was quality time with RosebudâÂ?¦myselfâÂ?¦and her mother. So the three of us talkedâÂ?¦and talkedâÂ?¦and right then I decided it was just no longer worth it. So I abruptly remarked that it really WAS getting late and I had to be going. Cut to shocked look from the Rosebud. Cut to even-more-shocked-look from Mother of Rosebud. Apparently “I’m leaving” were the magic words. So ‘ol mom says goodnight and walks insideâÂ?¦leaving the door open just a crack so her daughter would know to get her ass in there.

I figured what the heck, for my efforts; a lingering kiss is not out of line here. We embraced and Rosebud whispers that maybe she can sneak out and meet me around the corner. I do a mental system-check. Blanket in the trunk? Check. Portable radio rolled up in the blanket? Check. Condom in my wallet? Double-Check. Maybe talking to her mother wasn’t in vain after all. And then – while we were kissing, it happenedâÂ?¦my LEFT EYE SWELLED UP! I’m not sure if I got bit by a mosquitoâÂ?¦or if I got dirt in my eyeâÂ?¦but in the time it took me to say, “hey, my eye feels like it ‘s twitching”âÂ?¦my eyelid swelled up so bad I looked like someone taped an artichoke under my eyebrow. Rosebud gasped. Nothing like a melon-sized eye-infection to kill the heat of the moment.

This couldn’t be happening! No now! Not to me. But it was! Rosebud ran inside to get some ice. Mother-of-Rosebud followed her out the door. “I’m a registered nurse” mumbles Mom. “You need to apply pressure to control a swelling!’ and she proceeded to SQUEEZE my eyelid! AAAaaaaarrg! I think my eye swelled up even worse. “You apply pressure to stop BLEEDING!” was all i could reply. I backed away. It was time to go.

Fade to black.

It’s more than 25 years later and I had pretty much about forgot about that little episode. That is until the subject of “my worst date” came up. I’m sure there have been others. In fact I know there were: little incidentsof life or death melodrama that build up an emotional callus so you don’t get your feelings hurt. But more important, incidents that serve as a wake up call and hopefully make you understand the difference between right and wrong.

In the meantime, I wonder what ever happened to Rosebud and her mother. More importantly, I wonder if I should feel sorry for Rosebud’s husband. Nawww…who am I kidding. whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy. They both are.