The Dating Game

As a happily married Old Maid who dated her husband for the better part of the past 12 years, it's safe to say that my dating experience has been limited. Even in the few years where we weren't dating during college, I never really went on a ton of dates in the interim. I wish I could say the same for my husband, who has, shall we say "gotten around." (Love you!)

I can't really say that this a huge regret of mine. I've always maintained that I knew Bryan was "the one" way back when. I didn't want to waste my time with other guys while I waited patiently...for 9 years...for Bryan to figure it out.

I will say that a small part of me is jealous of the girls who have been on countless dates and as such, have an arsenal of bad dating stories. I find them quite entertaining, especially those from my friend Ashley.  I'm sure those girls are also jealous of me, the wife with a husband to come to every night instead of an empty apartment.

The grass is always greener.

In any case, of the few dates I've gone on in my 28 years, I can say that I've experienced the spectrum. My first date with Bryan was actually, one of the best dates I've ever been on, aside from the fact that he almost killed us by turning left in front of oncoming traffic at a terrifying high speed, and right over a railroad track, making us airborne.

Then there was the guy I met at a bar one night in college. For our first date, which was consequently our last, I invited him to a house party we were throwing (I wanted to keep it casual). He showed up stoned, carrying a meat and cheese tray. Our greeting was the only words we exchanged all night.

There were date parties with the boys from the frat next door. There were coffee dates with cute boys I met in Spain. There was one date I went on a few years ago when Bryan and I were on a brief break. Suffice it to say that he was not interested in me after finding out I lived with my ex-boyfriend.

But before all of these dates, there was my senior prom. And that, my friends, was the worst date ever.

The day started as any normal prom day. I had just gotten my hair done and had moved on to get my fake nails applied. As I heard sirens soar by, I had the weirdest feeling. About the same time, I got a phone call, telling me that Brittany, my best friend, had been in a car accident. I left the salon, one hand of nails left unmanicured.

She was so lucky. She was stopped at a stop sign, waiting to turn left. She was inching forward and the front of her car clipped an oncoming truck. Both cars ended up in the ravine, and both victims had to go to the hospital.

Thank God she was OK. After spending most of the day in the hospital, Brittany was discharged and was determined not to miss her senior prom. We finished our prepping, got dressed and everyone met over at Brittany's parent's house for pictures.

My date was Ryan Greene. He had had a crush on me for a long time, and as my beau was overseas, I thought it'd be harmless to go with him to the dance.

Disaster #1: Ryan shows up with a corsage. Cute, right? Yeah, up until I take it out and realize it's a PIN ON corsage. As in, the type you give a BOY. We had to create a wrist corsage by pinning it onto a freakin' hair tie. Has this guy never been to prom? Does he lack anyone in his life, be it a friend, sister or mother, to tell him the very basics of prom attire? Strike 1.

After pictures with the pseudo-corsage, we set out in his red Camaro with another couple to attend our progressive dinner. For those unfamiliar, a progressive dinner is when we stop at different houses for each course.

Disaster #2: We blow a tire on our way to the next house. We were on the "strip" and the four of us had to push the car off the road so that we could get the tire changed. Keep in mind, I was in a pink prom dress, hair and makeup done, and I broke a fake nail. Strike 2.

After the tire mishap, we went to the next part of the meal.

Disaster #3: I'm a self-described fatty and ate too much, whereby I broke my dress. Yep. True story. Fatty broke her zipper. Strike 1: Rachel.

We finished progressive dinner and it was time to go to THE PROM. OMG. Sorry, brief relapse back to 18-year-old speak.

So, we get to the prom and shuffle to the dance floor. We were there for no less than 10 minutes when

Disaster #4 occurred. My date was gone? I looked high and low for that kid, swaying to the music by myself, when it came to my attention where he was: Outside getting high. And that is where he stayed for pretty much THE ENTIRE DANCE.

At some point, everyone realized exactly how lame prom is, so we migrated to Annie's house, for our after prom party. I still had hope that Ryan and I might you know, talk, at some point in the evening, but alas, I got drunk and he passed out.

Annie still insists that he was just nervous around me and that's why he did literally everything wrong.

In any case, it's these memories that make me forever grateful for the man I married and all the dates I've had, good or bad, that helped me realize I never want to go on a date with anyone but him.

(Awwwww.)

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