My tweet of the week goes to struggling up and coming comedian, John Mulaney! (I’m realizing now, some of you don’t know me, so, yes, I’m kidding.) Just as a refresher for the structure of Tuesday posts–I’m taking my favorite tweet of the week and writing an essay or sketch or anything creative and fictional based on the tweet. Here we go!
She was really excited and was getting ready for her date–he was supposed to be a super nice guy according to all the Google searches she had done as well as his general demeanor in their text conversations. They’d never met in person, because this is 2014, dammit, and no one ever meets another person in real life and especially one that they’d potentially want to date. It was 8:03, he was supposed to pick her up at 8, but given traffic and nerves, she thought she’d give him a ten minute window. Thinking about it, though, how weird was it that a guy actually wanted to pick her up? They live in a giant city and they also live kinda far from each other. It’s not every day that you hear about people actually being picked up for dates. Mostly people just meet up somewhere and hope to god they’re not the first person there.
Hmm, now she was wondering about how people used to date in the old days. It was pretty normal back then to get picked up from your date, and also, it seemed to be really clear what was and what was not a date in the olden days. Now, you’re lucky if a guy even says the words “I like you” because he’s mostly too busy saying you look great or you’re not like other girls he’s met and pretty much, in general, avoiding the topic of any kind of feelings. Also, she hadn’t been asked out really, but she had been asked to hang out more times than she could count in her life–was that one date with her friend in high school a date? GOOD GOD, LOVE IS SO CONFUSING. Or, no, I’m sorry, not love, but something resembling a fondness for one another.
She started thinking about arranged marriages then. How weird that in other countries, girls and guys were being set up by their parents and they hadn’t met and maybe they would hate each other, but no matter what they really thought of each other, they were about to get married and they had no option of getting divorced and good god why was she still thinking about this?! It did seem a little bit easier, though. The whole arranged marriage thing. Then she wouldn’t be waiting for this guy, and oh, god, now it’s 8:07, and maybe if someone had arranged her marriage, this whole stressful situation could have been avoided.
It’s just dinner, though, she thought. And if nothing else, she’ll most likely get a free drink and a free meal out of this. But if she could choose, uh, yeah, she’d definitely want a free drink and meal with her best friend–who was conveniently in a movie right now, so she couldn’t text her and tell her how much she was freaking out about this. Ugh, now she was super worried about small talk. “Where are you originally from? What do you do for a living? How many siblings do you have? What do you like to do for fun? If you could have dinner with anyone, living or dead who would it be?” QUITE HONESTLY IF THIS MAN DOESN’T GET THAT I COULDN’T CARE LESS ABOUT BOTH THOSE QUESTIONS AND THE ANSWERS TO THESE QUESTIONS, THEN HE DOESN’T GET ME AT ALL.
Okay, now it’s 8:09 and she just saw his headlights pull up to the curb and she’s sufficiently freaked out and definitely doesn’t want to die alone. But she also would like to be found sooner than 72 hours following her death, so she grabs her excessively expensive purse, flips her hair, and goes to meet this guy who will either be her husband or her ex-boyfriend.