This is a story I submitted to the Shouts & Murmurs section of The New Yorker. They didn't want it, I'm just too funny for them I guess. I don't normally post fiction on this blog but I like this piece a lot. I hope you all do too!
Again, I repeat, this is FICTION. First Date Ugh, I would do anything to not have to go on this date right now. I am such a loser. Why am I such a loser? If I wasn’t such a loser, I probably wouldn’t still be going out on dates and I’d be in a relationship by now. I just know how it’s going to go. But, of course, there is that small chance that this could go differently than the plethora of other failed dates I’ve been on. But it is such a small chance. Is it really worth all of this effort and all of this pain? And if this guy were the one, wouldn’t I be excited right now? I’m not saying I believe in love at first sight (which, yes, I really hate to admit that I do believe in). But all I’m saying is, wouldn’t I have a better feeling about this? I can’t take another guy trying to impress me. I’m not saying the whole playing hard to get theory is true (which it is, but that’s not what I’m saying). I just want to be challenged. If another boy tells me I look pretty, I am going to vomit. On him. It’s just so fake! What, is he going to tell me that I look ugly? But even that would be a nice change. A surprise. I want to be surprised! Not by flowers or in that kind of way. Dating has become so predictable. So boring. Guys are so worried about trying to impress me that they forget to be themselves. Oh, I’ve spent all this time worrying and now I’m going to be late. What should I wear? I mean, I still want to look good. He could be the one. Ok. Here we go. He’s here to pick me up. Picking me up. What century is this? If he holds the door open for me I’ll puke. I wonder what kind of car he drives. Not that it matters. I don’t need a guy who has a lot of money. I plan to support myself. Feminism. But I mean, it will say something about him. If he drives a hummer I’m turning around. I don’t need to find out what he is overcompensating for. Or anything with rims. I’m not exactly sure what rims are but they sound too flashy. Alright, normal car. I approve. Do we hug? Shake? Why am I so awkward? Hi, how are you? Oh, I look pretty? That’s so nice of you to say… so unexpected. Awkward silence. This is going great. What do we talk about? So… where are we going? Oh, sushi? I hate sushi. Great, I love sushi. At least now I won’t have to worry about eating too much. I think I have a milky way in my fridge. Now that’s all I can think about. I would do anything to not have to sit through this dinner. You know how sometimes you think about something in your head, you build it up and then you think you know how it’s going to end? Let me tell you, this was better than I thought it would be. The swirls of chocolate and caramel together were really heavenly. I must be drunk because that was the best thing I’ve ever had. Or maybe it just seems that way compared to the disgusting sushi from earlier. I can’t believe I had to sit through that awful dinner with that awful guy just to come home and do exactly what I could’ve been doing all night. What’s the point in even going? I give up. They say you find him when you aren’t even looking. So from now on, I’m not going to look. I can’t believe it’s been two days and he still hasn’t texted me. And I’m not texting him first. No chance. I don’t understand, I thought the night went really well. I’m not going to go there and say that he could be the one, but you never know. I’m very thrown. He probably wants me to text him. Which I’m not going to do. I had a great time but if he didn’t like me then it’s his loss. Even if I wasn’t my most fun self, I still looked good. Something must be wrong. Maybe he lost my number. Or his phone broke. That’s what happened, he lost his phone! Or something worse. Maybe something bad happened. Now I’m worried. He was so nice. Almost too nice. He would’ve texted me by now. If something bad happened, I don’t want to seem like the bitch who didn’t text him. I should probably text him. Just in case. Oh wait, he just texted me. He wants to hang out tonight. I just saw him two days ago. It’s a little bit soon... a little bit desperate. I’ll respond later, maybe.