The Date I Feared Would Kill Me

Geplaatst op 03-04-2025

My leg is always wiggling back and forth, up and down, or in tiny little circles that would make even a merry-go-round ostrich get dizzy. I can’t not do it unless I’m sitting there fiercely concentrating on stopping it. Even then I can’t guarantee it.

My wiggling leg is a part of me. It always has been. I’m sure it always will be.

And today, I just want to tell you another (true) short story. For no other reason than that it needs to be told and you need to be entertained.

Night Out With California Women Near You

The place: CANYON INN, SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH

The year: 2025

I sat at the bar of the Canyon Inn, working my way slowly to the bottom of a stein of beer. Between gulps, I checked random useless crap on my phone. I couldn’t help but keep looking at the clock. My date was now really late.

Once my beer was gone, I set the stein down and opened up my Internet dating account. I pulled up her profile to decide if she was worth sticking around for.

She was pretty. She had these giant gorgeous blue eyes and naturally dark hair. She had a bit of sass to her look, and three times as much sass in the description that she wrote about herself. I’m a sucker for sass.

I looked at the clock once more. I’d give her five more minutes to show.

Me, I am a chronically on time person. I tend to value my time the way a mole values his claws. Which is a lot. And if I accept a date with you it means one of three things. Either you are intriguing, you are beautiful, or you happened to be both breathing and in my general vicinity when I find myself on the rebound.

And this girl was a combination of all three. Three points for her. Half an hour late with no text or call or even an attempt at an excuse I wouldn’t believe anyway. Minus four.

The five minutes I allotted her came and went. I flagged down the bartender to pay for my beer, and just as I reached for my wallet, she tapped on my shoulder and hurried and sat next to me.

“Hey,” she said as she leaned forward on the counter and started studying the shelves full of booze in front of us. The bartender asked if he could get her anything. “Mix me something that’ll knock me into next week,” she replied. Minus three points.

We chit-chatted for, oh, I don’t know… maybe 20 seconds

In that time I learned literally nothing about her. Except, maybe, that she could shoot an illegal drink and barely blink while she did.

And then…

It happened.

The most rude, crazy, and overbearing thing a woman has ever done to me on a date.

Her big blue eyes doubled in size. This was actually pretty amazing because it made her look like a real-live Muppet.

Her nostrils flared. And not the “I’m laughing at your joke so you like me” sort of flare. No, they flared out of anger like they were trying to snort the entire room inside.

She pierced her lips almost completely together. She left a tiny hole like she was going to whistle her way to another dimension.

She suddenly gasped-in a massive and dramatic amount of air through that tiny hole in her face. When she did, it sounded like a cross between a rabid rat, a dying canary, and an over-powered car wash vacuum.

She reached one hand up. A hand with claws on the end, disguised as long, fake nails.

She slammed her hand down on my leg. This is where I began fearing for my life.

She squeezed my thigh like she was trying to sever it.

She doubled the octave of the rat-canary-vacuum sound she was making.

At the same time, she screeched. Like Miss Piggy.

She bared her teeth, like I was a nature observer coming too close to her young.

And she said so quietly, yet so fiercely…

“Stop. Shaking. Your. Leg.”

At this point I had known her for about 45 seconds.

I had driven half an hour to meet her. I had waited half an hour to see her. And I was afraid of being killed by her in less time than it takes to disable a Match account forever.

I reached down and gently pushed her hand off of my leg. She released the grip and let it fall.

I looked down at the bar. “I hate to do this, but just before you got here, I…”

She glared at me with those giant blue eyes, daring me to finish the lie she knew I was concocting.

I swallowed. And looked at her. And sighed. And called the bartender over.

I should ask for the bill.

Or I could see what kind of adventures this date would ultimately take me on.

And, the blogger in me spoke up nice and clear and did the right thing. “I’ll have one of whatever you just gave her.”

The end. Or maybe to be continued. We’ll see.

Haha. This was one of two stories I needed to tell when it comes to my wiggly leg.

And please, don’t ever stop me from wiggling my leg.