Some Thoughts I Have After My Work From Home Date Yesterday

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I sat in my Uber on the way to work and scrolled mindlessly through my typical rotation of Instagram, Twitter, and email. I was leaving my Work From Home date and needed something to fiddle with while I processed what had just happened. I also wanted to give the impression that I was very busy to this driver because he seemed particularly chatty and, frankly, I wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

Everyone’s got their own post-date mental evaluation process. Some people may try to imagine themselves with their date next weekend, in two months, in three years. Some people try to pick their date apart, looking for flaws in an attempt to either hide their own insecurities or comply with their own standards.

As for me, I try to pick myself apart. See what I could have done better. Point out some hits and misses so that I can improve my game for next time. This is what I came up with while stuck in traffic.

I probably shouldn’t have even brought up the NCAA Tournament.

Between working as much as I do and not really having access to live television, I have been so far removed from college basketball (and sports in general) that my bracket may as well have been filled out by a koala bear. That, in comparison to her having filled out five brackets, joined a pool at work, and will be going to Vegas this weekend to watch the tournament (more on this later), is recipe for disaster.

I’m not saying that using sports as a topic of conversation is a bad idea. If you both have that in common, that’s great. Go for it. What I’m saying is that if you don’t know hardly anything about it, it’s probably best to not even bring it up.

Letting her dog use me as a chew toy was a good call.

She has an 8-month-old labradoodle that looks like Scooby Doo. I had seen it in snaps she sent me before, but she kept telling me that I would hate him. I’m not sure why, the dog ended up being a sweetheart. The only problem was that he was 8 months old and is still teething.

For some reason or another, he decided to use my hands as chew toys, coming very close to drawing blood on multiple occasions. He also tried to hump my brains out, but that was a whole other issue entirely.

Either way, my commitment to trying to play with him and establish some sort of peaceful relationship worked to my advantage, because after about an hour of this, she ended up getting up and putting him in “time out,” telling him that it was her turn to spend some time with me.

There has to be a more subtle way of scooting closer to the other person on the couch.

As the time wore on, we stopped talking about what we were doing for the rest of the week and started telling old stories. Times we should have been arrested, times we almost died, and times when we went on terrible dates. Throughout all of this, I was trying to maneuver myself over to her so that we could at least be in close proximity. Partly because she had some killer stories, partly because I was hoping to find myself in a position where there would be a pause in conversation and I could look her in the eyes, then down at the couch, then back in her eyes, and kiss her.

That being said, I wanted to make it subtle, so instead of standing up and walking over to her, I did this weird half-stand, half-squat walk thing where I would move myself a couple inches each time. It wasn’t cool. It wasn’t sexy. I made it about two feet in half an hour.

I went for bold and it paid off.

There were only about five minutes until I had to leave and go to my actual job. I set an alarm on my phone so I wouldn’t forget, and told her that I had to leave soon, making a stink about how I didn’t want to actually go to work. Then, she said something that’s been echoed on this site so many times.

“Sorry, Charlie.”

We both started laughing. She asked me how many times people have said that to me, and then went into various other Charlie phrases. This included, but was not limited to, “Charlie bit my finger!” and “We’re going to Candy Mountain, Charlie!”

I jokingly told her to shut up, but she kept going. We were both laughing and telling each other to shut up. I looked over at the dog in his time out, down at my phone with two minutes remaining on the timer, and then over at her.

“Fuck it,” I said, and I moved myself over to her and kissed her on the lips. This led to one of my top five make out sessions of all time. I think the combination of time constraints and having this be the last thing I did before I left put this over the top.

Which brings me to last night. I was on my way to the break room when I got a text from her.

Sent at 9:16 p.m.

Dee: Hey, I’ll be blunt with you. I’m still thinking about today, and I would really like to pick up where we left off tomorrow night at my place.

Me: I’ll be there. .

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Charlie

Using sarcasm as a defense mechanism since 1993. At any given moment I'm either tired, drunk, or stressed out. Get at me at charliepgp@gmail.com or whatever.

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