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Episode II: Woo her with onion breath
By Tyler Gaskill
“Rule one, do not be yourself. Rule two, whatever you do, don’t talk about anything of opinion.”
This is episode II of Tyler Gaskill’s allegorical exploration of American love life.
I was ready to make my move. The taboo first-date make-out was about to commence.
Grand Master Flash and The Furious Five were rappin’ “The Message” from my Winamp, my breath reeked of onions, I’d just dabbed my pits free of sweat, and all the lights were off.
Despite my suitemate, Ron, and my infallible equation for a victorious first date, it ended like my last encounter with the opposite sex. When I made the mistake of turning on the light for a second, Tina shrieked and sprinted out of my dorm room, crying for help.
Earlier that day I drank enough liquid courage to finally ask out Tina — the blonde vixen who gave me a carnal smile after the Betty debacle.
She was sitting behind me in lecture text messaging someone when I whipped around and asked, “Do you like onion pizza?” Before she had a chance to move her erotically thin lips, I blurted, “You should eat an onion pizza with me tonight in my dorm room, and watch ‘Everybody Loves Raymond.’ I love Raymond. Do you?”
Tina was frozen in what I thought was a look of elation. My words cast a spell of lustful fantasies in which I was the dashing hero. She probably saw me in an aura of inescapable masculinity — images of me in a bulldozer, tipping my hardhat in her direction, with a cockeyed grin.
Yes, I could tell she pined for me. I was that man she wanted to pack the tin lunchbox for early in the morning before work — and don’t forget the thermos full of soup.
“You actually watch that show?” Tina asked, as she slathered some kind of feminine cream onto her hands.
Ron jerked me around by my shirt collar, “Dude, say you were joking. For your sake, say you were joking.” Ron’s new soul patch was the envy of all freshmen. It was a nice complement to his name-brand image.
I crooked my head back to Tina. She was engrossed in her texting again. I replied to the questions that were most likely rhetorical, “Nah, I was just joshin’ ya.” Ron quickly elbowed me. “Uh, I mean, I’m a kidder. I like to joke.”
Tina broke her fixation and giggled.
Ron whispered not-so-quietly, “Ask her if she wants to study with you tonight.”
I asked, and watched as she weighed some unknown pros and cons, and said, “Sure.”
Before the date that night, Ron gave me the rundown of dos and don’ts for first dates.
“Rule one,” Ron decreed while slowly pacing back and forth in my single dorm room, “do not be yourself. That’s what a relationship is for. The best part of a first date is that they have no clue who you really are. You can be whatever you want. But just choose a persona that can have you running the bases before the night is over. For you, I’d pick …”
He looked me up and down.
“You’re a one-time state distance runner champ. Chicks like athletic, trust me.”
“Can I wear my single-piece spandex suit?” I asked. “I think it shows off my sexiest assets.”
Ron slapped me, and I let out a high-pitched squeal. “Rule two, whatever you do, don’t talk about anything of opinion. Be as grey as possible. That way you won’t possibly piss her off by disagreeing with something she really cares about. This means no talk about religion, politics or past relationships.”
I retorted, “So no talking about anything of significance?”
“Bingo.”
“Aren’t first dates for getting to know someone?”
Ron bent slightly backwards in a chuckle, “Cute. No, first dates are for getting to know their version of themselves. I told you, if you wanna get to know someone, forget trying to have sex — start a relationship. OK, I’m gonna take off. Remember what I said.”
Tina showed up an hour later than she said she would be there. We started studying for our JMC 101 exam, but kept getting distracted with flirtations. She kept laughing, even when I wasn’t trying to be funny, and always grabbed my arm mid-laugh.
The onion pizza got me a hit to first base. When I reached for a slice, my greasy fingers accidentally brushed her hand. Tina and I shared a moment. I moved for a kiss. I got pizza sauce on her cheek, and she snickered.
Before we went any further, I set the mood. This is where I broke Ron’s rules. I got lost in the moment and did what I wanted.
Tina laid on my futon with a teasing smirk as I turned on “The Message.” I turned out the light. In the darkness I slipped into my snug black spandex suit. When I turned on the light in search of my other spandex footie, Tina screamed at me.
As she ran, I yelled out the door, “It’s just me! I can go back to the other me! Damn it!”
Which will Tyler lose his virginity to his computer or a human? Does an empty fruit-snack package make a better condom? Find out in next week’s episode of The Trouser Snake Diaries!
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