Though many first dates may start with nerves and excitement, few end with projectile vomit.
This was the curious situation I found myself in last night as I kissed my date farewell, stumbled out of her front door and puked on her porch.
It was marginally better than my first match.com date, buoyed by the fact that she actually showed up. And it didn't hurt that we were drinking in arguably California's greatest city, San Francisco.
The amount we drank however may have led to the evening damp and dastardly demise and this morning's hangover from hell.
Should she not remind me of such horrifically drunken times I might see her again. Unfortunately, her memory is now forever associated with that crazy night. And I'm constantly reminded by the little bit of vomit on the tip of my shoe.
No comments:
Post a Comment