The following is an unfortunately true story.
Some of you will be completely shocked.
Some of you will completely understand.
And the rest of you, well, you are the reason I’m writing this public service announcement.
It was a warm day in the early summer when a girl named Foxy bumped into an acquaintance named Dickson (names have been slightly altered).
The following conversation ensued.
Dickson: Hey Foxy, you should come over tomorrow night.
Foxy: What time?
Foxy: Ummm…well I’m pretty busy.
Dickson: Whatever. Just come!
Foxy: Okay…I guess I can pop by.
The next night Foxy knocked on Dickson’s door.
He yelled for her to come in.
Dickson was on the floor in his PJs playing a video game. Without even looking up, he told her to sit on the couch…where she remained for 30 minutes suffering through semi-distracted side-conversation. She wasn’t offered a drink, a snack or at the very least a turn at the game (and I do mean the very very least).
Foxy finally had enough.
“Hey look Dickson, I’ve got to head home now. Like I said, I’m pretty busy.”
“Oh no…let’s go to get a snow cone real quick!”
[sigh] “Okay…but I don’t have a lot of time.”
After Dickson finished his round, he changed, did his hair…and then off they went.
When they arrived at the snow cone shack, he turned to her and said, “You can get whatever you want…as long as it’s under $2.” She ordered a Tiger (ripping Dickson apart and spilling his) Blood…small.
After a terribly long drive back to Dickson’s flat (which was about how the date was going), the evening was finally over and Foxy was free at last.
Now if this whole saga doesn’t just toast your muffin…then there is this.
The next week, Dickson bumped into a group of Foxy’s friends.
And while he didn’t have the decency to actually ask her on a date, or the courtesy to plan anything, or the tact to show respect, or the class to not put a price tag on her options…after alllllll that…he somehow had the gumption to brag to her friends that he took her on a “date.”
That’s right…he called that abomination of a human-to-human interaction a “date.”
Not an “all the reasons why I’m single” evening.
Not an “I skipped every class on social interactions” exhibit A.
Not even an “I was raised drinking Uncle Pappy’s moonshine” excuse.
Now if you are floored this is a real story…you had/are having a really good streak of dating. Stay in deep waters.
If you are thinking you might be Foxy in this story…I am so sorry men like that exist.
If you don’t see something wrong with every single detail of that story…listen up. You are probably Dickson.
Here are your 5 Reasons it ISN’T A DATE!
1. If you do not use the word “date,” you can’t call it a date.
Now, I am speaking a bit hyperbolically here in that you don’t actually need to say “date,” but you must make your intentions clear. Saying, ‘come over’ like a feral nimrod is a lot different than saying, ‘I’d love to take you to dinner this weekend.’
2. If you don’t set a time, you can’t call it a date.
In a bind it could be, ‘I’m not sure when my soccer game will end, but it should be around 8. I’ll let you know if that changes, okay?’ But usually is it just, ‘I’ll pick you up at 8.’
3. If you do not have something planned, you can’t call it a date.
Please remember that figuring something out when they show up is not a plan. Also…why are they coming to your place anyway? Go pick them up.
4. If you aren’t respectful, you can’t call it a date.
Ask about them, be courteous, listen, and put away your phone.
5. If you give them a price limit, you can’t call it a date.
You give your kids a budget, your employees a budget and yourself a budget. If you can’t afford anything more than a $2 snow cone, then either plan a different activity or stop going on dates because you need to spend your evenings looking for a job.
So if you do any of those five things, my friend, your only bragging rights should be to your WoW (World of Warcraft to everyone else still reading) friends whose sole social interaction consists of the pizza delivery calls to get extra cheesey crust.
Don’t be a Dickson.
Go on real dates.
Please share this to raise awareness so that the Dicksons of the world know, or everyone else can help not propagate his gene pool.
Also, don’t forget to sign up for the mailing list for the Bowl of Oates book and enter for your chance to win a free copy!