Since Lake Erie leaves quite a bit to be desired, I spend most of my weekends lounging poolside at my apartment complex. What could be better than spending the day tanning, gossiping with my best friend and drinking massive quantities of vodka without having to worry about driving, fixing my hair or even showering?
The fates of dating went easy on me this summer and allow me to partake in my two favorite pastimes simultaneously – dating and tanning. Imagine my shock when an irresistibly attractive male (who happens to be friends with my friends & has lived in the complex for almost a year, but I’ve never met him) sat next to me at the pool last month. After a few days spent chatting by the water, he asked me to dinner (third favorite pastime.. score).
Our first date was a success. So, what did we plan for our second date? A three day trip to Chicago. A weekend getaway with someone I just met had the potential to go amazingly well or terribly awful. I took my chances. Considering we had mutual friends, I knew he was harmless. Plus, even if it was dreadful, at least I’d have a funny blog post.
72 non-stop hours together certainly gave us an opportunity to get to know one another right off the bat. Let me tell you, an impromptu weekend trip with someone you just met is not for the timid. Here are a few examples of how even the best laid plans for a (72 hour) second date can easily go awry:
• He instantly saw me at my worst. No makeup, frizzy hair and eye boogers. Add a hangover & allergy attack on top of that. Sexy.
• I felt obligated to sleep in a bra.
• I snore sometimes. Even worse, I’ve been told I talk in my sleep on occasion.
• Oh yeah, sometimes I drool too.
• I’m a disorganized mess. (This was evident the moment I began to unpack.)
• Pooping. I was petrified to poop in the bathroom and stink up the small hotel room. Therefore, I strategically timed bathroom breaks while in restaurants and stores.
• Farting. Seriously, you can only hold them in for so long…
• A 7 hour car ride has potential for drawn-out, awkward silences and fighting over music selection. He could’ve been a Coldplay fan or insisted we listen to whatever latest “hits” station that plays that damn “We Are Young” song every fifteen minutes.
• What happens if I drink too much and puke? Ugh…. I always puke.
• Where the fuck will I sleep? His bed? Stay in my own? If the weekend is going good for one person, but not the other… sleeping arrangements could prove problematic.
• If I hop into bed with him, how far do I want it to go? If I have sex with him, what happens if it’s shitty? Am I stuck spending the remaining night or two pretending to have my period?
• What if he turns out to be a Republican? Or doesn’t find Seinfeld or Curb Your Enthusiasm funny?
• He will think I’m weird. There’s no getting around that. It’s comes down to how well he can tolerate it.
• In a 72 hour time period, it is inevitable that I will do at least two extremely embarrassing things and blurt out at least four regrettable statements.
There’s something to be said for putting yourself out there right away. I knew the long weekend would be a deciding factor – either we’d really hit it off or we would return home cringing at the thought of one more minute together.
The weekend was memorable and awkward moments were minimal. Thankfully, it turned out that we were pretty damn fond of each other. And a month and a half later – we still are.
With my lengthy record of bad dating ideas, a 72 hour second date could’ve been a massive disaster. It wasn’t. See? I’m proof that one time out of a thousand…. everything can go perfect for us all.