For an explanation of my NaBloPoMo theme, click here.
At some point in college (my Junior year, maybe?) I briefly dated a guy that we’ll call Abdul. He really wasn’t interesting enough to be named Abdul; in fact he had the most boring of boring American names. However, if you’re going to give someone an alias so that you can write about him on your blog, I think it’s fun to pick a name like Abdul.
Adbul went to the same college as I did, where no one but the richest of the rich kids had cars, because why in hell would you need or want one? Between the price of a parking permit, the lack of parking spaces even for people WITH parking permits, and then general lack of need for a car in the city, I didn’t know anyone who had a car. However, Abdul was from a town in Massachusetts that was less than an hour away from the school, and he kept his car at his parents’ house.
One long weekend, Abdul was going home for the weekend, but he suggested that he could drive into the city, pick me up, and then we could go on a date somewhere outside of Boston. I agreed, and we set a date and time for him to pick me up in front of my apartment building.
That Saturday night, Abdul called me right around the appointed time and said, “I’m out front.” So I went outside to the waiting car, opened the door, and sat down in the passenger seat.
Except… the man in the driver’s seat was not Abdul. And the man in the driver’s seat definitely thought that I was trying to carjack him. I swear, for a moment, he actually put his hands up in surrender, before realizing that I was as surprised as he was and that it was an honest mistake and I was not going to pull out a sawed off shotgun and demand he hand over the keys to his Buick.
This would have been bad enough, but it was made worse by the fact that Abdul had pulled up behind the waiting car just in time to see me get into the wrong car by mistake. My protests that 1) he should have told me what kind of car to expect and 2) ‘I’m out front’ means I’M OUT FRONT, not ‘I’m down the street and will be out front in a minute’ fell on deaf ears as he thought it was the funniest damn thing he’d ever seen.
As you might have guessed, that was our last date. I clearly was not cut out to be with a guy who can’t manage to handle the occasional embarrassing moment with at least a little compassion.