Being geographically challenged (or an idiot: your choice, reader), I had suggested Loveland to my prospective date as a halfway point between Denver and Fort Collins. Turns out it's not halfway. Not even quarterway. My date, Hailey, drove six minutes to the Loveland Barnes & Noble, while it took me sixty minutes. DO THE MATH, PEOPLE. AND THEN DO THE DISHES. AND TAKE OUT THE GODDAMN TRASH.
By the time I got there, I was feeling the need to express myself physically... in the toilet. So I rushed with precipitous alacrity to the restroom and, punching open the door, I jumped into the middle stall. For a brief second I had noted that there were no urinals, but... surely that meant nothing. As I sat there feeling a whole lot better, a strange sound came to my ears. Clacking heels. A woman's voice. What the... Didn't this chick know how to read?? But then I heard a child's voice. Ah. It was just a mommy bringing in her little boy who had a frightened pee pee (my exact thoughts). But then the child sounded kinda... feminine. Well, some boys are like that. (Not me: I'm straight.) Still, I was starting to have doubts about my grasp of this situation. Was it possible I was in the women's restroom......? No. No, absolutely not. I never make mistakes. And I'm never an idiot. Then more clacking heels. Someone, who was definitely not a lumberjack, got in the stall on my left. I sat in horror as I listened to no one snort or hawk a giant loogie or talk about fantasy football. Instead it was talk of doilies and pretty print patterns for douche products. Dear God, I was in the enemy camp! I waited, slipped out of my stall--and there a child stared at me. She screamed/babbled something about a monster being in the bathroom.
"Shhhhh," I hissed. I threw a toilet paper roll at her. "Be quiet, little girl. Shh!.."
"What are you doing here?" said a female woman.
"Ah.... Er..... Uh.... I'm transitioning, all right? Now, if you will excuse me...."
I huffed my way out with all the dignity my suddenly pre-op body could manage, and saw that indeed the sign on the door said WOMEN. In my haste to make waste, I apparently only had time to read the last three letters. M.... E...... N. Right! No time to read the rest. All systems = go.
Perhaps I should have quit while I was behind, but instead I forged ahead with my date despite all the inglorious omens. I met Hailey and she was very very nice and she assured me she hadn't seen anyone "weird" in the ladies bathroom. Then she asked if I could go on an errand with her to Walmart. Yesss, I thought. Move over, 50 Shades! She needed to get a battery for her smoke detector because it wouldn't stop beeping. We purchased the batteries, got some apple slices for the road, and headed back to her place. Cue sexy music. Then she climbed a chair and struggled to put the battery in the chirping detector. I stood aside with my arms folded, enjoying the show. I suppose I could have offered to help, but.... you know. Once the battery was in and the detector behaving, Hailey said she had a "dumb" joke. Little did she know she was talking to a master of the dumb joke (q.v. this entire blog). I told her please tell me. She said the detector must not be working because I was "smoking hot." I told her I didn't appreciate her lacerating satire. But she insisted that she meant it. So, processing this bit of news, I decided to send in the troops. I swooped in for a kiss--and she evaded me with a giggle.
*gameshow fail trombone*
During dinner, I considered that this was another one of my spectacular misreadings of a situation, and wondered if I should stop reading altogether. Perhaps the joke was "smoking not"....? Turned out she had a little boo-boo on her lip-lip from a pancake accident that morning. But she told me later that she wanted to accept my blundering kiss had it not been for her lip lameness. At the end of a great evening filled with comedy and romance, I politely kissed her hand, bid my fair lady adieu, and expressed my hope to meet her in a restroom soon!