A kind male amigo sent me this story. The bolded parentheticals are yours truly. Duh.
I'm not a picky Jew at all, especially when it comes to my taste in girls. I know what I'm looking for but they're pretty basic qualities that most people require. (Breasts, a sense of humor, and no criminal record. Unless being sexy is a crime. And then he probably wants a felon.)Unfortunately I am picky about one thing...I require all of the girls I take out to be single.
I was sitting across from Michelle. (Boobs...check, criminal record...questionable. Maybe that one time Michy got really pissed at her ex because he forgot to text her back during an insanely long and pivotal game of Beer Pong, and she subsequently keyed his car and dumped her almond butter acai-pomegranate exfoliating wash on his new laptop.)We just had an awesome time playing mini-golf, and I thought it was going well. (I only play mini golf for the "thats what she saids." Mind's in the gutter, a gutter that resembles a windmill. Why is it that mini golf holes always have the weirdest and most antiquated sculptures? How about a giant Snooki or a life-size replica of a molar, with awesome crevices?)
Out of nowhere I get the most dreaded line a guy could hear..."I have to tell you something, but promise you won't get mad." Now let's be honest, the only time you start a conversation with that is when you've done something that would make a person mad. Really mad.
(Possibilities: webbed feet. Pregnant with septuplets, each of whom has a different father. A prosthesis fashioned by the same guy who did the one from Happy Gilmore.)
My first thought after staring closely at her face was that she was born a man.
"I'm engaged."
"Engaged? Engaged in what? (Are you engaged in deep sea fishing? Deeply engaged in Cheetoh-eating contests that leave your hands permanently dyed electric orange? Because if so, samesies!)"
She reaches into her bag and pulls out a ring. She continues to tell me she's on JDate to see what else is out there before she ties the knot in a year, something that would probably have been a better idea before taking the ring and GOING ON A DATE WITH SOMEONE ELSE. But considering the thought process of a female, any of them would have said yes to a ring that big. (Okay, that's dumping on ladies a bit. But this girl deserves to have a Port-o-Potty unloaded on her. Twice.)
After talking for a little about it, we continued the dinner as if it were still a normal date. (I think this is the ultimate buzzkill. Pregnancy might have been close, but some guys dig that. Like the guy in Hung.)
I brought her home, not expecting to hear from her again. Until she started texting me incessantly, which I ignored.
(This is really unbelievable, and so NOT okay on several levels. I'm going to putt-putt now with a paper mache of her face. Now that's good for whacking balls into. THATS WHAT HE SAID.)