Worst Date Ever

This post is inspired by the The Office. Remember that episode when they had to evacuate the building because of the fire alarm, and they were standing the parking lot swapping Worst Date stories? Well, here's mine.

It was my junior or senior year of college. I was sorta seeing this guy from UNH. "Sorta seeing" means that we hooked up a few times, but didn't even really talk on the phone or go out on actual dates or anything. The first time I met him, I was at Melissa's dorm room and he was there. Then I went home with him, which translates to walking across the campus from one dorm room to another. He was really sweet. He serenaded me on our walk to his dorm room with a lovely rendition of "Try to Remember" from the Fantastiks. Once inside his dorm room, I was completely smitten. What can I say; I tend to fall easily for the musical type. (And then I get to know them and realize they're all pompous jerks with illusions of grandeur. Or, in this case, gay.) Another of the few times I saw him was when I drove to UNH with my mom to see him star in a play. I should have seen the warning signs then when he was wearing makeup and singing. Or when he was making out with that dude backstage. But then Valentine's Day rolled around and he came to my apartment in Boston with a bottle of wine and a backpack full of sleepover clothes. Seemed straight to me!

But then, The Worst Date happened. He was staying at his dad's house in Salem, MA and invited me up for the night. I must not have had a car at the time, because I took the T from Brighton to Salem, MA. Now, for anyone familiar with the Boston T system, you know it's hard enough getting from Boston to Cambridge via the T on a weekday, let alone getting from the city to a freakin' suburb on a Saturday. I took the B line to Haymarket (1 hour, 20 minutes) and then waited for a bus (45 minutes), and then got on the bus and eventually made it to his stop in Salem (close to 2 hours - mainly due to the fact that the bus stopped every 50 feet in Lynn.) I think I got to his place just before dark. Despite the 4 hour journey, I kept telling myself it was going to be worth it. He was sweet! He was charming! He had a voice like an angel! I don't remember much about what happened at all, but I think that's because nothing happened. We didn't watch a movie, we didn't eat dinner, we didn't listen to music, we probably didn't even have a conversation. I have a vague memory of him showing me some book, but that's really all I can remember until bedtime. Ah, yes, bedtime! Maybe he'll make up for it now, I thought. We got into bed, layed down side by side, and he held my hand. Sounds nice enough, right? Except that's all that happened. Hand holding. I spent half a day on public transportation and the other half pretending to be interested in some book so you can hold my hand under the covers? Gah!

But wait, it gets worse. The next morning, I was getting ready to leave. I forgot to bring the Sunday bus schedule with me, so I had no idea when or if the bus would come to get me. I packed up my shit, said my goodbye, and left. I walked down the driveway to the bus stop, which was right outside his house. It wasn't awkward enough to have a hand-holding sleepover party, but now I needed to sit outside his living room window on the side of the road? No thanks. So, I started walking. I walked, and I walked, and I walked. No bus ever came. Eventually, I saw signs for the Swampscott commuter rail station, so I followed those signs. I walked, and I walked, and I walked. By now, I was off the bus route, and who knows how far from the commuter rail station. I had no other option but to keep on walking. This was long before every idiot had a cell phone, and the route that I was walking on was a residential route, so there weren't even any payphones. Finally, about 3 hours later, I made it to the Swampscott commuter rail station. Luckily, they had a schedule posted on their platform, and I only had to wait about 45 minutes for the next train. Waiting for 45 minutes seemed long when I was at Haymarket the day before, but after walking for 3 hours through the quiet streets of Salem and Swampscott, I wasn't about to complain about sitting for 45 minutes. The train finally came and took me back to North Station (1 hour), and then I took the green line back to Brighton (1 hour, 30 minutes) and finally I was home. I logged on to my computer when I got home, and this part I remember perfectly:

.t lennon I just got home
Lennon tells you > Why did it take you so long?
.t lennon Because the bus never came so I ended up walking to the swampscott commuter rail station
Lennon tells you > That's not a short walk at all!*
.t lennon ya I know
Lennon tells you > I had my dad's car, I could have driven you there if I knew you planned to take the commuter rail home

And that was the last time I ever had any contact with him.

Moral of the story: Do not fall for a guy who serenades you with showtunes.

* This line is verbatim. I remember it perfectly because it won the "understatement of the year" award.