I don’t do mistakes, I date them

I ask you this. When did dating stop being fun?

Because I remember this date. January, a day before my birthday.

It sure was an A+ rendez-vous. It all started with the greeting “I am so happy you’re not like other girls and you came on time”. OK… let’s say he’s nervous. But then…

I was fire red ashamed of my date who was talking too loud in the coffee house he took me, a rather intimate place where other civilized people were trying to have a pleasant evening. He knocked over a bamboos screen (“paravan” în română) which almost destroyed a wonderful display of porcelain coffee cups, which thank God didn’t happen but it sure gave everybody there something to talk (read laugh) about and a very good reason for me to never return. And the cherry on top of the cake it was, of course, that I ended up paying for the check.

After such an adventurous evening, I had to think of some excuse to run and make it look real. And what better way to do that than pretend I have to go to the train station and pick up a package from my parents, because as I mentioned, it was my birthday the next day.

And so, waiting for the right bus in Piaţa Romană, it started to romantically rain and he just felt the need to be a man and protect me from soaking. I didn’t feel any raindrops or hear the loud traffic noise, all my senses where concentrated on my left ear where he was breathing anxiously, awaiting for me to turn my head so he could make his move and kiss me. Unfortunately for him, all these so called tricks guys use are not new to me. So I prayed for the bus to come, and every time one was in sight I yield “oh, this must be it” so he would turn to see the number and win myself another couple of seconds. This went on, I believe 20 min, and I was starting to lose hope, but the magic bus 67 did eventualy came and pulled a meter from the station’s sidewalk  I literally flew to its door and jumped in. It was then that I could look at him and see he’s disappointment. I felt sorry but relieved. Laughing by myself about the whole thing, I heard my phone ringing. Guess who? He realized he hasn’t been a gentleman (really?) and he didn’t offer to help me with my package and that he’s on his way to the train station, and I should wait for him, I quote “this was not the way the evening should have ended”. “The evening should have ended before it started” I thought to myself and assured him it was a small package and that I can manage to carry it. Somehow, he didn’t get the right message I was sending, which was obvious to you, my reader, that I didn’t want to see him again, ever, but he politely thanked me for a wonderful time and promised to call me the next day. I smiled, but thought he was being ironic, entered a “no signal area” and hung up.

But the story doesn’t end there, no sir, it keeps getting better… as I said, the next day was my 22^nd birthday…

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