Finally, the big night was here. After a month of talking on the phone, dozens of emails sent back and forth, and even receiving a slightly naughty picture of April, I was finally going to go out with her. What started as a semi-lark on the computer, the online dating service was going to get a chance to live up to its promise. "Meet the one" it had said.
My stomach was in turmoil as I drove to her house for our Saturday morning date. I regretted that last cup of coffee as my mid-section turned flip-flops outside her house. Topping the coffee off with two large bananas was probably a bad idea as well. But, gathering my fortitude I got out of the car and approached the front door. I tried to remember all of the things April had said she liked about me. Chivalry, confidence, and a slightly strange sense of humor topped the list in my mind. Knocking on the front door with what I hoped sounded like a confident knock, and not someone trying to break in, the date was officially under way.
When she opened the front door two things happened at once, she smiled and said "Hi handsome" and my overworked intestinal track made much needed room in the form of an unsuspecting belch. Now, in case this is something you cannot imagine, a guttural hello combined with a gaseous burp is not the best way to start what could be the most important day of ones life. However, being the trooper that her online profile detailed her to be; she just smiled and ignored the methane inspired greeting.
As we entered the house, she then said to me, "Dean, I am so very sorry, but my parents came by unexpectedly just a few minutes before you arrived. I am afraid my mom and dad would like to meet you. My stomach lurched and churned. Well, I've survived the burp I thought, what else could go wrong? Her mother seemed nice enough, and if April looked anything like her in another 25 years or so, life would be grand. Her father on the other hand, was built like a Peterbuilt dump truck. In addition, as I reached out my hand to grab his, he amiably pretended to punch me in the stomach the way nervous men sometimes do to other men. Now, when a 250-pound man even pretends to punch you in the stomach, there is a very unavoidable reaction from ones midsection. It tightens up. This sudden tightening also produces another unavoidable reaction if you happen to be full of gas. Yep. You guessed it, I farted.
And I'm not talking about one of those little sissy farts where you can mutter "Oh sorry, trouser cough". I'm talking about a big gargantuan explosion of gas. A fart that will leave your ass sore for an hour. A real mans fart. As all of the blood suddenly drained from my head and I tried not to pass out I realized something else. As if to add insult to injury, I realized that, I was not particularly 'dry' down there. I think I shit my pants. I mumbled something about needing a bathroom when April's father said his first ever words to me. "Son," he said with authority, "I think that's a damn fine idea".
Sitting in the bathroom, I contemplated my options; there was no window to lend an escape from. Nor did I think I could flush myself down the commode. My only option seemed to be slitting my wrists. But being unable to find a razor blade, I lowered my head, swallowed my pride and proceeded slowly back into the living room. Thankfully, April was the only one there. "My folks had to leave," she said. Then added, "That was quite a show you put on, very exciting". Are you usually this much fun on a first date because my dad wants me to phone him if you end up shitting yourself and I need a ride".
We laughed about it all the way to the car. I remembered to open her door, and even helped her with her seat belt. In the car, the laughter became hysterical. Sometimes when I laugh a lot, I snort. And like icing on the cake, I snorted twice and launched a huge booger at the windshield. It got very quiet then as we both watched the booger slide slowly down the glass. I think it was then that I realized the date was over. I got out, walked around to her side of the car and opened the door. At least as she was walking towards the door in silence, shaking her head from side to side I remembered to ask, "Can I call you