So my girlfriends and I got together this past weekend, catching up, reminiscing about this and that. Somehow or other the subject of worst dates came up…and we laughed so much my stomach hurt. I’ve had my fair share over the years, but one in particular stands out, earning the title of “Worst Date.”
After I graduated from high school, I attended business school. To earn money, I worked at Fish&Chips at night and on the weekends. Eat&Park was directly across the street and the manager would often wave at me. He and my manager would often exchange food as a trade off. One night he came over with a strawberry cream pie in exchange for some fish. I was working the cash register and the night was particularly slow. On his way out, he stopped to chat.
“How ya doin’?” he smiled. “Isn’t it about time we introduced ourselves? My name’s Darryl.”
“I’m Sharon,” I liked his smile. Then a car load of customers came in and we got busy
Over the next few weeks, the food trade off between the managers continued. If we weren’t busy, Darryl would strike up a conversation. One night, he asked me out.
“So…when’s your next night off? Would you like to go out, see a show maybe?”
A night out sounded good to me. Between school and work, my social life was fairly non-existent. So I jotted down my number and we made plans to go out the following weekend to a show.
Never seeing Darryl in anything other than his uniform, I had no idea how he dressed socially. His uniform was always clean, he had light brown hair streaked with blonde, brown eyes and a friendly smile. But when he showed up at my front door in a hot pink shirt, bright blue polyester pants and white shoes so shiny I could see my reflexion…I got the first clue Darryl was not going to be the dream date
It was a hot summer night--and as we drove downtown to the theater, Darryl informed me we would be getting in the show for free because he was friends with the manager. In exchange for an Eat&Park pie, we would get free tickets. A pattern began to form. Darryl then informed me he had a pie exchange with managers all over town and got in places for free.
So when we finally got downtown, Darryl proceeds to pull the notorious pie from his trunk. It never occurred to me on this hot summer night he would bring a cream pie, but sure enough, didn’t he reach down and pull out a saturated box from an overheated trunk and announce, “My friend just loves strawberry cream pie. He won’t even mind it’s a little melted.”
That was the understatement. As we walked to the theater, leaving puddles of melted strawberry cream pie all over the sidewalk, people shot us dirty looks, clucked their tongues and got out of the way. But Darryl didn’t seem to notice, sporting his dribbling cream pie with a big smile on his face. By the time we arrived at the ticket booth, flies were buzzing. Humiliated, I stood in the far background while he presented the disastrous meltdown of a pie to the manager. I really hoped I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew. My date stood out in the crowd like a neon light in his flamboyant wardrobe, his sticky buck skin shoes and the circling buzz of flies.
Once in the air conditioned theater, Darryl cleaned himself up. He was one of those people who had seen the movie and was only too happy to shout out what was about to happen. The couple in the row in front of us turned around—and not for the first time that evening—tongues were clucking. After the movie, I told Darryl to take me home as I had a headache…and it was no lie.
Instead, Darryl turned up a street near the theater and parked in front of a house with a patio party going on in full swing. He looked over and said, “Before I take you home, I just want you to meet my mom. There she is, right over there.”
I looked over at the brightly lit patio. Sure enough, Mom was waving, a big smile on her face. Sighing, I got out and Darryl proceeded to introduce me as his girlfriend to Mom and all his relatives…
They insisted I have a hamburger and a beverage. I lost count of how many relatives asked me how long Darryl and I were “going together.”
So on the way home, just when I thought the evening was at long last over, Darryl once more announces, “Just one more stop. You didn’t meet Dad yet.”
And just as I opened my mouth to protest, there we were…in a cemetery just up the street from Mom’s house. And to my shock and horror, he stopped the car smack dab in front of a tomb stone and announced, “Hey, Dad…this is Sharon…the girl I’ve been telling you about.”
Have a worst date? I’d love to hear it. Leave a comment and the best one will win a download of a cookbook by several Wild Rose authors.
Sharon Donovan lives with her family in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She has a certificate
from Bradford Business School and a certificate in medical transcription from the
Community College of Allegheny County. She was a legal secretary in the Family Division
of the Court of Common Pleas where she prepared cases for judges in Domestic Relations.
Due to diabetic retinopathy, she lost her vision several years ago.
Painting was her passion. Devastated when she could no longer paint, she took several
classes in creative writing and memoir workshops. And through the darkness, a new
dream resurrected for a brighter tomorrow. Motivated by new insight, instead of painting
pictures on canvas, Sharon paints her pictures with words.
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