There was once a time I dabbled in online dating (is it called dabbling if it goes on for 10 months?). During this period in my life I went on dates with total strangers from Tinder, O.K.Cupid, Plenty of Fish- pretty much anything that could lead to a free dinner. Anyway, during the summer of 2013, I was casually dating a man named Sam. Sam was older than me, had lived in cool places, prided himself on being a great chef, and was a former military man.
Sam invited me to a Fourth of July BBQ that he and his roommate were hosting. I accepted said invitation. I was asked to arrive early to help set up, but really I think Sam just wanted to show off his chef skills. The chef skills sucked. Like really sucked. He told his roommate to make french fries by putting slices of potato on the grill. Sir, those would be grilled potatoes- not french fries.
Later on in our preparations, it occurred to me that an ex-military man should probably be in a parade on Independence Day. So, being the nosey person I am, I inquired about his lack of a parade presence. His response: “Oh- I thought I told you about that. I got kicked out for smoking synthetic marijuana at the base.” OKAYYYY. Important information.
After his horrible cooking, realizing I’d rather hang out with his roommates, and hearing of a military history that Uncle Sam would not be proud of, it crossed my mind that I should pump the brakes a bit. Brake pumps quickly evolved into slamming on the brakes when he became creepier with every sip of alcohol. I was playing a game where I tried to never be in the same room as him- it was that bad.
In classic beccabeccag style, I ate a hamburger and pretended to get a really important phone call from my mother.
Me: Oh my gosh. Sam, I have to leave. I’m so sorry.
Sam: What’s wrong?
Me: I just got a call from my mom. No one is home to feed the dog– I really have to go. She could die.
Sam: You don’t have a dog… you have a cat.
Me: My brother’s dog is home. BYE! Thanks for having me.
Yeah, I told a lie on the Fourth of July, but I have a gut feeling Uncle Sam– a true patriotic gem– would still want me. During my drive home, I was stuck in Houston traffic, got caught in a rain storm, and almost ran over people sitting on the overpass trying to watch fireworks. Hello- this is for driving, not gazing at colors in the sky.
I got home, fed my brother’s dog, and watched a Law & Order: SVU marathon with no pants on. About four episodes in, I recognized an undying need for biscuits and gravy from Whataburger building up inside me. I proceeded to drive to Whataburger (if you’re not familiar with Whataburger, I’m so sorry and I will pray for you) sans pants, and I ordered my food with an extra large side of fries. While stuffing my face with greasy goodness on the drive back to my house, I dropped a fry on my bare, upper thigh and burned myself with grease. If that’s not the definition of a true American, I don’t know what is.
I spent the rest of the evening pants-less, snuggled up with a well-fed pup, and watching my bffs Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson fight pervs well into July 5th. I never talked to Sam again.