Thursday, January 22, 2009

Flower Boy

I've been wanting to tell this story for awhile. It just cracks me up every time, which means of course that none of you will find it remotely funny. But it became a huge joke amongst my friends for quite awhile. And it really sums up how my life went for awhile -- and luckily, I could laugh at it.

In any case, it wasn't quite a blind date, but it was pretty close. I was at a party a friend of mine was throwing and some guy asked for my number and I gave it to him. I'm not quite sure why I did, because it's not like we spent time talking and clicking that night or anything, but he did call and ask me out shortly thereafter.

He agreed to pick me up at my apartment on a Friday, and the plan was to go to dinner and then a movie afterwards.

At the time, I was working in consulting, and I had a lot to do that day. By the time I left the office, I was running a bit late. I wasn't too worried though. Then I remembered that it was my week for the flowers.

Each week, our reception area got a huge massive bouquet of flowers that set out on the desk all week long. Friday afternoon, one of the consultants took it home to enjoy the remaining flowery loveliness. Too keep it from getting me all messy, I placed it into a large garbage bag and carried it carefully to my apartment.

When I arrived at my building, Flower Boy was standing at the entrance waiting for me. He was fifteen minutes early, I might add. And oh. He was carrying a bouquet. You know those bouquets you see in the grocery stores with just a couple old carnations in them? Yeah. That's what he was carrying. While I held probably a couple hundred dollars worth of a gorgeous bouquet in my arms.

Well, that wasn't awkward or anything.

I graciously invited him up so I could put his lovely bouquet into water (while ignoring the flowers I had -- I didn't even take them out of the bag!). I guess you've all figured out where the name Flower Boy comes from, huh? It doesn't stop there though.

We head back downstairs and start walking to the restaurant, which is literally about three blocks from my apartment. He raves about the restaurant the whole time, how much he loves it and how great the service is ad nasueum.

We're walking up Wells, and we keep walking. And keep walking. And just about hit North Avenue. He's certain that we must have passed it because we were having such a great conversation (really, we were?). We double back and look for it, but don't see it. Then he decides it must be across the street. Nope, not there either.

As we're walking south on Wells again, I spot the restaurant. On the original side of the street. We head over, and I do the uh-oh, I don't think it's open yet. Apparently, that's when his first slipup of saying he made a reservation but not really making a reservation became apparent.

I volunteered to go elsewhere, since there were about five thousand restaurants in that four blocks we had already walked twice. He's convinced we have to go to the original restaurant. I shrugged and followed him. When we got to the doors, it was quite apparent that the restaurant was closed and wasn't about to open anytime soon. The tablecloths were gone from the table, most chairs were gone, and it looked pretty musty.

He finally agreed to go somewhere else.

We found another Italian restaurant, and we sat at the bar to wait for a table. Our great conversation continued as he talked about how his uncle had eight children and how he thought that was so great and how he wanted to have eight kids, too, and wouldn't that just be really cool to have that many children and what a great life they'd all have. And I started edging towards the exit.

When he took a bathroom break, I seriously thought about making a break for it myself before I realized that he knew where I lived. A note to any single guys out there: talking about having eight children on a first date is not the way to a girl's heart.

When our table was ready, he ordered a beer, and they brought a pilsner glass for him to drink from. You know that trick that bartenders do where they flip the beer bottle into the glass and then pull the bottle up and the beer flows beautifully into the glass? He decided to show off how he could do that, too. Except that when he tried, he ummm broke the glass.

I played it off and made a joke of it to try to make himself feel better, but he just went into a self beat-down mode. It was a liiiiiiiiiittle bit uncomfortable. He eventually got over it.

As we had our main course served, he reached for his glass of water. And spilled it. All. Over. Me. I'm still not quite sure how he did it, but he soaked me and my plate. Fortunately, I have quick reflexes, so I was able to save my meal. You can imagine the self-loathing that came from this accident.

Oh, and he ordered some Italian dish that -- at the time -- I'd never heard of, talking about how much he loved it blah blah blah. He took one bite, and his face turned a little sideways. I could tell that he was doing his best not to gag. Apparently he'd never had squid before and didn't recognize the fancy Italian name. I considered spilling my drink into his plate so he could get something new, but I didn't think I was quite proficient enough to pull that off.

Our meal ended. Given all the mix-ups, it took much longer than either of us had expected, and we decided to to forego the movie and just walked back to my apartment.

When we got there, we did the usual first date dancing around I had a great time, thank you so much thing. As he was saying good-bye, I was expecting him to try to hug me but was hoping he wouldn't try to kiss me. I needn't have worried. He stuck his hand out for me to quite formally shake. "I had a great time. I'd love to do this again. Are you free next Friday?"

Dude, are you a glutton for punishment? No. NO! Fortunately, he took me rather startled I-don't-think-so quite well.

And thus, the legend of Flower Boy was born. This many years later, I'm sure I've forgotten some salient details, but most of them remain burned into my memory.

You'd think that this was the end of the story, but ... I did run into him one other time. It was at another party of a completely different friend. I wish I could remember what he said, but it wasn't quite as memorable. I know he was telling all his friends that he'd dated me but was totally ignoring me to my face.

At that point in time, I was dating a very different guy. Actually, he was a former college wrestler. I had told him the Flower Boy story previously and absolutely cracked up to show him Flower Boy in the flesh. Wrestler Boy didn't take so well to Flower Boy trying to make an issue of me. I do remember him walking up to Flower Boy and requesting the he grow a pair. If only I could remember the exact quote. It was perfect for the situation.

Oddly, I never saw him after that. I think the two meetings of me frightened him away from parties forever after that.

So what's your worst first/blind date story?


Karen January 22, 2009 at 7:23 AM  

That's awesome. Flower Boy now lives on in history.

MaBunny January 22, 2009 at 7:42 AM  

HAHAHAHA, thats pretty funny.
My first date that I had with this guy that my friend and I met while we were out dancing was pretty bad too.
Actually I had two. I went out with the guy mentioned above and of course since I met him while out dancing, we went dancing. At this time I was learning how to two step and was loving it. He dressed like a cowboy - but wasn't. He kept asking me my favorite dance song, I must have told him thirty million times - Two Dozen Roses by Shenandoah. How hard was that to remember? Well obviously harder than he!! cause he coldn't remember it from me to the DJ booth...

Then I met up with a guy that I had seen around my work while out one night and we (tried)to dance - he couldn't two step, shuffle or anything.. so wth was he doing at a country bar? but when he asked for my phone number, I gave him the local area code with my old phone number from Chicago!!!!

Gina January 22, 2009 at 7:56 AM  

My worst date was the same sort of "almost blind date" thing. And it involved a giant quantity of illegal substances, provoking a gang-banger, abandoning me outside a bar, and then expecting sex. Awesome.

Melisa with one S January 22, 2009 at 8:04 AM  

That was funny! You weren't wearing a white t-shirt on the date, were you? Because then I could see why/how he spilled his water all over you. LOL

Sarah January 22, 2009 at 11:30 AM  


namaste January 22, 2009 at 1:09 PM  

I can't believe he broke the glass!

Veggie Mom January 22, 2009 at 1:33 PM  

Oh, poor Flower Boy. I think the spilled water was the icing on the cake, huh? Sorry for mixing my metaphors...

Cookie January 22, 2009 at 8:43 PM  

That is funny! I got married young, so not many dating stories from me. There was one creep who wanted to marry me and harrassed my sister for a while because he was mad that i didn't want to see him anymore. Soooo glad I gotta out of that relationship!

Michelle January 22, 2009 at 9:12 PM  

Karen - That he does. Is it sad that I don't even remember his name now?

MaBunny - Gotta love the non-dancing boys. At least you found yourself the right one now ;)

Gina - Oh. My. I remember that one. And oddly, when I read it the first time, I had promised to talk about Flower Boy. It took me awhile!

Melisa - Nope, no white t-shirt. I have no idea what it was, but I don't think I'd have been that ummm stupid.

Sarah - Thanks. Glad I'm not the only one who things so.

namaste - I know! I still can't figure out how he did it. Flipped it sideways while it was still in the glass or something?

Veggie Mom - Yeah... the icing on the cake. Poor guy. I do hope he found someone to be happy with at some point.

Cookie - Eeks. Bad relationships are not a good thing. I had one of my own early on. Glad you got out of it, too!

Kathleen January 22, 2009 at 10:59 PM  

Popping in from SITS - what a great funny story!

Weaselmomma January 23, 2009 at 9:57 AM  

That was a great 1st date horror story!
BTW, I am killing myself trying to get in shape to do a 5k with you! Wow, that's pathetic! Do you have a particular one in mind? Email me,

Michelle January 23, 2009 at 5:04 PM  

Kathleen - Glad you liked that story :) Welcome!

Weaselmomma - It was, wasn't it? And don't kill yourself... there's no way in HELL I'm running outside until at least mid-March, so you have plenty of time without killing yourself. I'll send you an email soon. But *I'M* headed to the gym now to try to go run... since I just got finished with 4 1/2 hours of work on my day off :)

Angela January 24, 2009 at 11:40 AM  

Oh my gosh POOR YOU! You handled all that much more gracefully than I would have. I probably would have run and just never answered my door again, LOL!

Michelle January 24, 2009 at 2:17 PM  

Angela - What can I say? I was born and raised Catholic. The guilt would have eaten me alive!

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