I’m all about multi-tasking and killing all the birds with one stone.
However, there’s a difference between double-booking yourself for everyone’s Christmas party and knocking two other things out at the same time like arranging to meet your drug dealer on a date.
I don’t know, maybe I just have really high standards.
My friend Sabrina told me about the worst date she ever had, with a guy named Brian who she met at a networking event.
They went on three dates and had fun listening to music and going to dinner, getting coffee, etc.
She remembers now that he was always hyper, always up for doing stuff, especially late at night. She chalked it up to enthusiasm and spirit and, unfortunately, failed to notice how often he was going to “bathroom.”
(Mom, don’t ask.)
On their fourth date, Brian suggested they go to a random bar that was way, way off the beaten path that they had no particular reason for going.
There was no food, no music, no fun bar games. It was a seedy, dark hole in the wall.
“The beers are really cold,” Brian told her.
They walked in and took seats and the bar and each ordered a beer when Brian said he was going to go to the bathroom.
After five minutes of sitting there by herself, Sabrina looked around to try and find Brian or the bathrooms and saw just a group of people sitting at a booth in the back.
She looked again. There was Brian.
SITTING AT A BOOTH IN THE BACK OF THE BAR WITH PEOPLE WHILE SHE SAT BY HERSELF.
Then she looked closer: Brian was sitting with four girls.
Sabrina didn’t want to walk up to Brian and the group of girls (who were very pretty and intimidating) so she did what any millennial would do—she texted him.
“Ummm hello what are you doing? Who are those people?”
Brian didn’t seem at all concerned, so Sabrina had to muster up the courage to go over to a booth and bitch at Brian in front of everyone.
“What are you doing over here?” she asked in her most fake-happy voice.
Brian got jumpy.
“Oh, nothing. just talking to some friends. This is Sabrina everybody,” he said.
Before the girls looked up, Sabrina announced, “I’m leaving,” and walked toward the door.
“Wait!” Brian yelled behind her.
Sabrina turned around.
“What are you doing sitting at a booth with all those girls?” she asked. “Are you dating one of them?”
“You don’t understand!” Brian said. “I’m not dating any of them! They are my cocaine dealers!”
“Wait, you do coke?” she asked.
“Yea, and every girl I’ve ever dated has been a big coke head and you’re really inspiring me not to do it anymore, so this will be my last time buying it,” Brian said.
(Ed note: WHAT A COMPLIMENT!!! SWOON!!!)
“So, come on, let’s go back into the bar and come sit with us.”
Sabrina said she didn’t know what was worse—him being a secret cocaine user, or the fact that he brought her unknowingly to his coke deal.
Or maybe it was worse that he didn’t think she would TURN HER HEAD AROUND and see him sitting there in the back of the bar after five minutes of being the “bathroom.”
AND WHY ON EARTH WOULD SHE WANT TO GO BACK INTO THE BAR AND SIT WITH THEM??!?!?!
There aren’t enough stones in the world to kill that bird.
So Sabrina flew out of there as quickly as possible.