It starts with just the one guy. Other than a small perspiration issue (on his end), the date is going great. We have a few drinks, laugh as he mops up his sweat, and go over all the first date basics. What do you do for a living? Oh, that sounds interesting. Do you like it? Where’d you grow up? Oh, I’ve never been there. Did you like it? Where’d you go to school? Oh, I partied there once. Did you like it?
We’re just getting comfortable enough to really get to know each other and he mentions that a friend he hasn’t seen in a while is stopping by. So I’m thinking, sick – threesome! Then when two guys show up I’m like, hell yeah – gangbang!
Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly what I’m thinking. I’m cool about it though, and before I know it I’m now on a date with one of the other guys. What do you do for a living? Oh, that sounds boring. Do you like it? Where’d you grow up? Oh, I’ve been there. Did you like it? Where’d you go to school? Oh, I’ve never heard of it. Did you like it?
Then one and two go outside for a smoke, and I’m left alone with three. He eagerly buys me a beer. What do you do for a living? Oh, wow. That’s impressive. Do you like it? Where’d you grow up? Oh, I have a friend who grew up there. Maybe you know him, John? No? Where’d you go to school? Oh, me too! What dorm were you in?
Ten minutes later, one and two decide they want to go home. Three reluctantly decides to tag along. One, two, and three unanimously decide that I can’t tag along. It’s time for me to go home. So I leave, allowing the boys to do what boys do when women aren’t around. Baffled and confused by what just occurred.
Three dates under my belt and I’m going home. Alone. At 9:30. On a Friday night. Absolutely not. Now, where’s number four…