Sunday, January 18, 2015

Getting Stood Up: A Timeline

The following was inspired by actual events.

7:49 p.m. — Arrive at the restaurant slightly early. Take a moment to walk around the block just so you can nonchalantly cruise in a few minutes late as if you hadn’t rushed to get there and stressed about being late the entire time.

8:04 p.m. — Enter the restaurant. Give your name. Feel a slight twinge of panic as they look over the reservation list. Expect to be reprimanded for arriving four minutes late. “We saw you walking around the block,” the hostess never says. You are the first to arrive.

8:07 p.m. — Consider for a moment the oddness in the fact that you have not spoken to him (that is, texted with him) since the day before. Ignore it.

8:14 p.m. — “You know, I’m starving. Maybe I will just get an appetizer. And yeah, a glass of the pinot too. No, the pinot noir.” What lunatic would mean pinot gris he says they say “a glass of the pinot”?

8:21 p.m. — Check his Facebook even though you’re not friends with him. You learn that he changed his Facebook banner after Christmas but before New Year’s. This yields no clues.

8:26 p.m. — Fidgeting.

8:27 p.m. — “Sure, I’ll have another.”

8:31 p.m. — Wonder if your cell carrier has failed, possibly as a result of solar flares or a terrorist attack. Send a text message to a friend. It’s a funny dog pic from Tumblr. She replies promptly. Fuck.

8:37 p.m. — Wonder if he may have died in a burning ball of death en route to the restaurant.

8:38 p.m. — Decide you’d rather he died in a burning ball of death.

8:39 p.m. — Feel terrible about yourself.

8:46 p.m. — “Maybe she had car trouble,” says the waitress, trying to be helpful. “Do you want more bread?” she asks. You cannot eat gluten. You have not touched the bread.

8:49 p.m. — Kill everyone in the restaurant with your thoughts.

8:51 p.m. — Stomp through the city causing explosions and assorted other forms of telekinetic mayhem, Carrie White-style.

8:58 p.m. — Transform into a winged demon monster that soars through the sky in search of anyone who has given this man the slightest kindness. Hunt down all in his family line. None survive.

9:28 p.m. — Extinguish all human life.

9:41 p.m. — Extinguish all life on Earth beyond hamsters. Earth belongs to the hamsters now. Hamster planet.

10:22 p.m. — Arrive back at home. Heat up those leftovers you thought you were going to have tomorrow night. Hey, it’s pretty quiet now, at least.

5:45 p.m., two days later

The circus of horrors that is my life, previously:


  1. Does it help that I am amused by your suffering?

  2. My last date (and also first, and also only) is the exact opposite of this: it went smashingly; the comedy show we were going to see started three hours late so we talked the whole time and the conversation went great. Then the show started and, although it wasn't that great, we laughed at all the same things. I walked her to her car, we hugged and I said we should do it again, she said absolutely, and I never heard from her again. That was a month ago.

  3. team Hamster Planet!

  4. ...were you secretly taking notes of my last "alleged" date..?

  5. Anonymous10:59 AM

    Hmmph; having read this blog for a number of years now, I feel righteous indignation on your behalf. ... He was Unworthy, Sir. Moving on.

  6. Something Thundershield? A cousin of Durkon's perhaps?

  7. I would date you in a heartbeat. Sorry to hear about getting stood up, this sort of shit is enough to drive one back to Grindr