Relationships

In honor of Babs and AD deciding to give it up and just go ahead and get their groove on with each other, I've decided to post one of my more amusing forays into the world of dating.

This is The Best Worst First Date Story Ever.

It was a few years back and I'd been hanging out at my brother's house with a bunch of his friends, just having fun and generally staying out of trouble, when I got to talking with D, one of the guys that I'd known for a while. We joked around and laughed for a bit and he invited me to come take a ride in his new truck, which was pretty spiffy.

On the way out of my brother's house another one of his friends asked D where the hell we were going, and D just smiled at him, threw his arm around my shoulders and said, "We're going to christen my new truck!"

My brother was somewhat notorious for being overprotective... at times... so this got people a little worried about whether D would be in one piece at the end of the night or not.

It didn't help matters that as we were walking out I asked D if he had condoms, and we started an argument about who was supposed to buy the condoms, the guy or the girl. This argument actually lasted for years, and was a source of great amusement for all.

So, D and I go riding around, and he's telling me about the ranch that he's managing, and this festival that a town near there is having, and how he wants to go but doesn't really have anyone to go with him. (Subtle, wasn't he?)

So I pipe up and say I'll go, I just have to make sure that it's ok with my parents. Since I wasn't eighteen yet, and I'd be gone all day and a good chunk of the night, I knew it was something I needed to clear with them.

We trundled back to the party and I popped back to mom and dad's house to tell them about the plan and get the ok on it.

Of course, Farmdad had his Daddy hat on and decided that D needed to come and ask him for permission.

I'm gonna take a moment here to tell ya'll about D. D is a cowboy. Not a rodeo cowboy but an honest to god go out and move cattle, rope a calf and drag it to the branding fire cowboy. He's about 5'5, and wiry, and oh yeah, he's a twin. Good lookin little shits, D and his brother A, and I'll admit I had a few happy little moments thinking about both of them, but I digress.

I went and informed D of Farmdad's insistence that he do the old fashioned thing, and my brother, helpful soul that he is, grabbed his favorite long, sharp, shiny object and demonstrated to D what "the old man" would do if he actually had the audacity to show up at the house and ask to take me somewhere, explaining it all in a slightly drunken slur (the party had continued without us and everyone was feeling pretty good at that point.)

Well, D trundled over to the house and made his request in the slight stutter he tended to develop when he was really excited... or scared. The whole time he was rolling his poor abused stetson into a little tube, and Farmdad was milking this for all the entertainment value he could get out of it.

"And what time would you have my daughter home?"

"E-eleven?"

"THAT IS NOT ACCEPTABLE!"

"T-t-te..."

"NO! There's a dance at that festival, it's a two hour drive, and you won't have any time to have fun if you're home by eleven. Have her home by one."

D was flabbergasted at this point, and didn't know what to think. Farmdad had kept up the stern dad thing all the way through, so I can't blame him for being confused.

"Y-yes sir."

"And boy?"

"Y-yes sir?"

"Stop abusing that poor hat, what did it ever do to you?"

So, at eight the next morning, D picked me up to go see the ranch where he was working, and go to the festival.

Thats when things really got entertaining....

Whoops! Time to get ready for class... To Be Continued...