Ah, the first date. Might as well swallow a bucket of Red Bull and then try to thread a needle. You’re both gonna be nervous, but that’s where the similarities end. They say women are from Venus. Well, guys are from Planet Simple, just past Planet “Huh?”, near the Moon of “Really, I was Listening, Please Give Me Back the Remote.”
For example, preparation – from the moment the date is confirmed, she is nervous and planning. He thinks he’s nervous, but soon realizes that it’s just hunger. A quick corn dog at the 7-11 and he soon forgets that he even has a date. By this time, she has gone through eighty-seven potential outfits to wear on the date, realized she has absolutely nothing to wear, and is at the mall trying to find something suitable.
Shoes! Goodness, what will she do? You can tell so much by her shoes. They can’t be scuffed or worn – that would make her look like she has to work for a living. (Of course she has to work for a living – who the hell paid for the shoes, Santa Claus?) And they can’t be too plain or too vampy – don’t want to convey the wrong impression. When the actual truth is the only impression that needs to be made is that yes, she remembered to wear shoes. And even if she didn’t wear them, he might like that. As for him, he’s all set – he has shoes.
Hair! Don’t get me started, I can do that perfectly well myself. All the wild things we women do to our hair, and the cruel twist is, boys don’t care. Watching the commercial in which two women are fighting in a fountain over a beer’s best attributes, all I can think is, they are totally messing up their hairdos. Guys are thinking, well, let’s just say that guys are not thinking with the upstairs brain.
All night, from salad to main course to remorse, she misreads him, frantically overthinking his underthinking. For some horrid reason, he left the room in the middle of dessert. Maybe, she thinks, she scarfed up the fudge flambee too quickly. Reality is, he just had to pee.
Then, you have the ‘legs akimbo’ possibilities. This is where the vastness of the gender gulf becomes obvious. She wonders if he’ll kiss her good night, and he’s thinking about whether the Cubs really have a chance this year. She wonders if she should ask him in, he’s hoping that she does ask him in because he has to pee again. She wonders what side of the bed he likes to sleep on, and he’s wondering if he should tell her about the booger she’s had hanging off her nose for the last two hours.
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