Grandmothers can hardly be trustworthy.

12/07/2011 The Anti-Austen 8 Comments

My Dear Readers,
It's mid-week and I hope all of you are surviving this horrendous period of the semester. I wish you all the best.

Last week, I asked for those who would be interested, to email us your worst-date story. And luckily for me, you are all great supporters and sent me a plethora. [Jefe, what is a plethora?] We received emails about manipulative mechanics, wanna-be Casanovas, and clingy mere acquaintances. Thank you so much for entertaining us with your stories. I giggled like a school girl for a whole night about them. But there was one. Yes, the one. The one that had me in fits. [If you're not in fits by the end, either you are dull or I am just too over-dramatic]. So it is with pleasure that I bring you this masterpiece of a horrible date written by one of your fellow readers.

Con Amor,
The Coquette


It was the day before my senior prom. I was laying on the couch in my house, feeling slightly sad at not being asked, but also happy at the prospect of leaving for BYU in two short months and moving on to bigger and better things.

My phone rang. Caller ID said "Grandma" Grandma?? My Grandma never calls me. What???
Conversation ensued:
Me: "Hi, Grandma. ??"
Grandma: "Hi dear. What day is your prom?"
Me: what???? "Um, tomorrow?"
Grandma: "Do you want a date?"
Me: "What?"
Grandma: "Well, we have your senior picture on our fridge. And we have a Utah State student who comes to practice his violin at our house. And he saw it. And he wants to take you to Prom."
Me: "um...its TOMORROW."
Grandma: "Yeah, do you think you can get a dress by then?"
Me: "....uh yeah? Okay?"
Grandma: "Okay, I'll have him call you later."

I wish I could insert a video montage of myself madly driving around for the next hour, first to my high school to buy a dance ticket, then to my friend's house to try on and borrow a very big poofy dress, but then my identity would be shot. During this video montage we would pause to listen to the phone call from my "date." (Unfortunately I can't remember the fellow's real name, so I don't know if I'm giving his identity away or not, but lets call him Brody, a male name meaning "muddy place.") Brody confirmed our date for the following evening, saying he wouldn't be able to pick me up until 8:00 p.m. because he had a violin lesson with the concert master of the Utah Symphony.

Let's fast forward to riding in his very nice car on the freeway to the state capitol.

Brody: "I'm sorry my car is so crappy."
Me: what? (this seems to be a common thought I had in this tale) "Um, I like it. Do you have to drive all the way back up to Logan tonight?"
Brody: "No, my family owns an apartment in Salt Lake. We actually just found out my dad's been having an affair in it for the past 15 years."
Me: "oh...I'm sorry? That's rough..."
Brody: "Yeah, its okay."
Me: "Okay so how was your violin lesson?"
Brody: "So good! *insert a very long monologue about how awesome it was* ...and I'm actually transferring to some Ivy League music school in Massachusetts..."
Me: "Oh that's really awesome! How do feel about not playing your violin for two years when you're on your mission?"
Brody: "I'm not going to go on a mission. My family just joined a cult, actually."
Me: I AM ON THE FREEWAY, IN A DRESS I CAN'T BREATHE IN, WITH A BOY WHO JUST JOINED A CULT "oh how interesting."

We then arrived at the Capitol. He walked three steps ahead of me all the way to the front doors. We then stood in line for an hour waiting to take an excruciatingly awkward posed photo. (My roommates hung it up last year and put a stickie note over his face.) He then kindly explained that because it was my prom, I could go wherever and talk to whomever, and he would simply follow me. Awesome.

On the way home, I was still freaking out about being in a car on the freeway in the dress with the boy when he queried "So, do you want to do anything else?" What?!?!?!?!!?! I don't even want to know what you have in mind! "You know, I think you should just take me home."

After that experience, I happily went back to dreaming about leaving for BYU and swore with an oath that I will never answer the phone when my Grandma calls again.

The end.

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8 comments:

Anonymous said...

ohmygoodness I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. :)

Jessica said...

"I'm not going to go on a mission. My family just joined a cult, actually."

BAhahahahahahahaha. That must have been a joke. PLEASE tell me he wouldn't say that, out loud, to a near stranger, and be serious about it.

Also, now I'm super curious about which cult they joined...I need more info!

Anne said...

bahaha, love the Three Amigos reference!

and that was possibly the most disturbing first/blind date story i've ever heard. "we actually just found out my dad's been having an affair in it for the last 15 years"??? talk about the TMI! geez!

And let's not forget, he's staying in the SAME ROOM his dad's been having an affair in for FIFTEEN YEARS.

I wouldn't be able to go near that room...

Anonymous said...

hahahahahahahahaha.... I totally know your identity my dear friend:)

Shanny said...

Ahahaha! "I'm not going on a mission. My family just joined a cult, actually." That made me laugh so hard!

This is my favorite blog! Always makes me erupt into fits of laughter! :D

Marigold said...

I know who you are, mysterious author of this e-mail! I've heard the story before, and I got the link to this blog from your blog! You were also one of my first friends at BYU. And we still are! I think I'll text you after this...just so we can giggle together!

Shelly said...

Hahaha! This is hilarious. I had a really awful date once and blogged about it: http://lifeweekbyweek.blogspot.com/2011/07/worst-date-ever.html