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Nate:Promise?
Me:Fine. What did you do?
Nate:I faked a stomachache to get out of it.
Me:WHY?
Nate:She kind of scared me.
Me:Scared you? How could a woman scare you?
Nate:Believe me, women can be scary. And this one looked like she wanted to eat me alive. And not in a sexy way. But more in a Hannibal Lecter kind of way.
Me:I’m sure you’re being dramatic.
Nate:I’m not. She kept asking me questions like my dietary regimen and whether I knew my measurements by heart. I could tell by the craziness in her eyes that she was trying to see if she could fit me in her freezer, Lottie. Freaked me the fuck out.
Me:Now I know you’re being dramatic.
Nate:I don’t think so. Do you even do background checks on these chicks?
Me:Women aren’t chicks, Nate.
Nate:Maybe not, but this one is definitely a psycho. Had to switch cabs just to make sure she wasn’t following me home from the restaurant.
Me:Okay, fair enough. She gave you the ick. Not your fault, I guess.
Nate:The ick?
Me:Yes, haven’t you ever heard that expression before?
Nate:Maybe if I had a vagina.
Me:
Me:The ick is when you experience an unpleasant or awkward interaction with someone you’re on a date with. It’s like when a particular food or smell is so repulsing that you say it gives you the ‘ick.’
Nate:That! That’s what I got! Except I’m pretty sure the only food she was thinking about was me, all chopped up into little pieces with barbecue sauce on the side. ICK!
Me:LOL. Fine. I’ll find you someone else to go out with. But give me a few days.
Nate:Take as much time as you want. The first game of the season is this Saturday, and I would rather focus on that anyway.
Me:Good luck. Or should I say break a leg?
Nate:It’s hockey. Breaking bones is almost inevitable.
Me:I really don’t get hockey.
Nate:Ever been to a game before?
Me:No.
Nate:Then come and watch me play. I’ll tell Piper to get you some tickets.
Me:That’s really not necessary.
Nate:After the hell you put me through these past few weeks, it kind of feels like you owe me one.
