Date 98 - The Putt-Putt Put-Down

originally posted Wednesday, September 14, 2005

I was looking forward to meeting B. He seemed well rounded and possibly even sensitive. Brainy but down to earth. A geek who golfs. He asked me to meet him for some Putt Putt on Burnet. I thought it was cute and unconventional.

I arrive and it's so nice to finally see him. He looks just like his picture except he's a little twitchy - probably a little nervous. So, we walk up to the counter and he says "One, please."

It's all down hill from there. Is this really happening?

The fifteen year old boy is looking at me with pity. I'm confused and mortified. I'm looking back at the kid imploringly. My vision turns to slow-mo and I am looking for what? A camera? Ashton Kutcher? What the hell am I supposed to do now?

My stomach turns and I think, "I've got to get the hell outta here!" I want to bolt for my car. It seems so close. If I wasn't wearing these stupid sandals I bet I could make it over there before B even realized what was happening. I'm seriously considering making a run for it.

I hear my mom's voice inside my head telling me to be polite. I reach in my pocket and pull out a fiver. "One, please," I manage and soldier on.

The small talk is effortful. We cover the usual topics. I hit my ball at precisely the right angle to curve around a metal loop and sink a hole in one. I usually suck at mini-golf... and regular golf too. I'm afraid to go on a real course for fear that I'm liable to kill someone with the results of my errant swing.

We finish and he suggests "going for a beer or something". I'm still confused. Stunned. I try to look on the bright side and make excuses. My inner bitch wants to ask if I'm supposed to buy my own beer too. I stifle the inner bitch and we head to the Draught House on Medical Parkway. I decide to eliminate the problem by buying the first round - I'll reclaim my dignity and cut him off at the pass! He buys the second, and then has a third. Conditions don't improve.

I'm happy to be deposited back at my car and decide I need an exit strategy for future dates gone wrong. After this kind of humiliation an exit strategy will be imperative for me to survive the rest of these dates.