Michael Kramer wrote a funny little piece for MSN today on being a worst date. He had heard the stories but had never really considered the possibility that he could ever be one.
In truth, we’ve probably all been one. And inevitably, it seems to happen right after a breakup–in that period of time when we should be crated to protect ourselves from doing something irrational–like going out while channeling zsa zsa gabor in a midriff bearing tube top that screams COPACABANA. Sure, it was cute at 20, but not after three martinis and an hour of drunken debate (with yourself) over the precise level of jerk your ex was.
On the flip side, there’s the occasional date with the guy who admits to wearing seven layers, nasal strips and a black mask to bed. In times like these, you question your values. Did I say I wanted an honest man? What I meant to say was…
What did I mean to say?