Let’s just say that hypothetically one has a date tonight. Hypothetically one does not remember what their date looks like. This hypothetical date cannot be located on Facebook, despite one’s elite stalking skills.
Hypothetically, what does one do?
I mean I know it will be fine. Somehow we’ll manage to find each other. And I’m sure it’s going to be a lot of fun because I really enjoy arranging set times to engage in direct eye contact for hours in a row while making conversation with a complete stranger.
I’m a bit particular, to say the least. If my immense propensity for fangirling doesn’t scare people away, my “Ask Me About My Feminism” tee shirt will.
I actually don’t own one of those shirts, but I should. Do those exist? It would surely cut in half the amount of time I have to bother talking to unworthy people. Will someone buy it for me? I already spent my next couple of month’s shopping money on the dress that got me into this mess in the first place.
Yes. That is a dress. Covered in puppies. And some flowers. But mostly puppies.
This dress is the reason why I have not one but TWO dates this week. With two different guys. Who are actually real. I’m pretty sure. Come to think of it, the one I’m seeing tonight can’t be located on Facebook (hypothetical situation was not hypothetical, in case you didn’t catch that) so he might actually be a figment of my imagination.
I’m not discounting that possibility, k?
So there I was, having a conversation about feminism with one guy (I shit you not) and I was about to leave, so he asked for my number. And I was like “you were just enjoying a conversation with me about something that sends most guys running” so I was like YOU BETCHA PAL.
Then I literally turned around and another guy asked for my number.
I don’t mean to brag or anything, except just kidding I really do, because WHAT.
I am generally an enjoyable person but I am really not so enjoyable that I can’t even turn around without someone asking for my number. What you might be thinking if you are you and are definitely thinking if you are my parents is “no, I’m sure he asked you out because of your glowing personality.” I mean yes, that is an obviously logical conclusion to come to, but no. In this case it was definitely the dress. Definitely. If the multiple compliments by tonight’s suitor directed specifically toward my dress are any indication, credit goes to the puppies.
Ok, ok, puppies may have multiple meanings in that context. FINE.
It may also have something to do with the cake that I shared with him, euphemism not included. What a bonding experience that was!
Really though, puppies. That was the point, after all. Literally literally. One does not just buy a boob-baring dress covered in dogs and flowers without wanting attention. “I’ll get so many compliments” was part of my actual thought process when deciding whether or not to buy. Anything beyond that is a happy accident. Happy? Potentially disastrous. We’ll see.
The moral of the story is this: If I buy expensive things, they will earn their keep by getting me free dinners and if I really play my cards right, some nice jewelry too.