Urine for a Surprise

A few years ago, I broke down and allowed a friend of mine to set me up on a blind date. Yes, another blind date. You'd think I'd learn, but of course I don't. Although, to give myself some credit, I did learn to take my own car at this point.

I've debated telling this story simply because I never did tell my match making friend the true events of this day because she already felt bad enough about the basics about why it went wrong (I also didn't want to humiliate him in front of his friends, and I'm still not quite sure why.) I'm telling it now because enough time has passed that she very well may have forgotten what movie we did see and because she isn't online to read my blog nearly as often as she once was.

I don't know why I've spent so much time worrying about affecting the friendships of people who've made a complete ass out of themselves in front of me, but I have. I've learned to care a little less over the years; to a point, at least...I no longer feel obligated to continue to speak to a person when I'd rather gnaw my arm off just because they are friends with a friend of mine.

This event occurred a few years ago when a friend of mine wanted to hook me up with a 'very nice' guy. That should have been my clue, but I prefer to live my dating life with my head planted squarely up my ass, so I nodded like a dumbass, secured my blinders and played along.

My friend, “Judy”, called me one day to tell me about her friend “Fred”. She told me she'd love to hook me up with Fred because he was such a nice guy, and a hard worker, and has a great sense of family. I finally gave her the okay to give him my number and we started talking. He did seem to be a nice guy even if he was a little on the shy side. Even though I have a ridiculously shy side when it comes to meeting people, and even though I am very aware of it, AND even though I am quite confident about most of my actions (as long as those actions don't include walking, running, building, cutting, fixing, or moving in general), I now wonder what is wrong with them that makes them so shy. He made me this way.

As the conversations progressed, Fred finally asked me to dinner and the movies. Dinner ended up being pizza before the movie, but he let me choose the movie. I chose Live Free or Die Hard. (What can I say? I still love Bruce.) Everything seemed to go well during the pizza, and even the movie started well. He bought popcorn and drinks...we even had nice conversation until the movie started.

The movie started and that's when it went downhill. Quickly. I might have been able to understand the following events had I chosen a girly movie...you know, a sappy love story that would make everyone in the theater cry like little girls or even a romantic man-hating comedy, but I chose Die Hard for the love of god: action, explosions, gun fire, murder, and even a little computer geek thrown in for good measure! There is no explanation for what happened, for the scars that still remain on my eyes.

As the movie started, I became engrossed, and I thought he had too. Some time had passed and I started hearing animal noises coming from my side. A small part of me cringed and prepared for an attack as I wondered if it was something in the water around Wilkes Barre that makes men think this is appealing. I steeled myself and looked to the side and discovered he wasn't trying to make a move on me, oh no, nothing like like...he was fast asleep. In a movie theater. On our first date. Watching Die Hard.

After a brief internal struggle about what to do, I finally decided that, given my history, a man falling asleep and snoring during a movie ranks rather low on the bad date scale. Plus, I really wanted to see the movie. Screw it, I was sticking it out. Yay me! I won't let some stupid man ruin my good time! I was enjoying the movie. I even got to see a good portion of it before I reached for my drink and couldn't find it. And that's when it all went bad. I looked down to see just what had become of the water and discovered that, OH MY GOD, he dumped it on himself. Oh wait, there it is...silly me. OH MY GOD! He didn't dump it on himself! This grown 30something man just peed himself. While sleeping. In a theater. On our first date. Watching Die Hard. It was almost too much to wrap my head around. I might have been less shocked had he looked at me and asked 'Mommy, can you take me to pee, I'm afraid!'

I was mortified. Mortified! I also didn't know what to do. Should I wake him and point out that he peed himself? Should I call Judy? Would she know what to do? Should I go get an attendant? Should I go get him paper towels? How do I tell him I do like to date men who pee themselves? With all of these thoughts acting the part of a ping pong machine in my head, I finally decided my only option was to make myself gone. I moved a few rows back and ducked down. I sat at the end of the aisle on the other side...dammit...I really wanted to see the movie. I ran out of the theater before the credits while I could see that he was still sleeping soundly.

I came home and told my friend it was nice except that he fell asleep. I didn't expect to hear from him because I'd assumed that he would be too embarrassed to call. Yeah. This is me. Of course I was wrong.

Luckily, I never got the chance the chance to feel like I had to go out with him again.

Lesson here? Don't assume someone will react with the same level of embarrassment as any sane human when you most expect them to.