Tales from Palm Beach: Bad Date

Waiting for the bus today, I hit the wayback machine in my head and found myself remembering the cruel cruel days of singlehood (I really don't envy the single) and one of the misadventures I had there.

In my sophomore year of college, I went on a date with a girl I worked with. I use the word "date" loosely since it was one of those ambiguous "let's-go-outs" that just in the end leads to awkwardness and confusion. It was the typical coffee-movie date. Matchstick Men was the movie. No, I don't know what I was thinking.

We were only a little into the movie when my date told me she had to go to the bathroom. I watched her go out and then realized that now I had to go too. So I got up, went into the bathroom and got into one of the stalls. It was then that I had a startling realization:

There were no urinals when I came in here.

I peaked through the crack in the door, and sure enough there was a girl doing her makeup. Yep. I was in the girl's bathroom. Even worse, I was there with my date.

 How am I going to get out of here? I stepped back and tried to formulate a plan. Eventually, I decided I'd wait until it got quiet, rush out of the bathroom and run into the men's bathroom (to wash my hands there instead--I'm an idiot, not a pig.)


When everything was quiet, I opened the door with a squeak and then rushed out toward the entrance. I ran face-first into a young woman whose forehead immediately wrinkled at the sight of me. She looked at me, looked up at the sign, looked at me, looked at the sign. Then she burst out laughing.

I ran past her and hid in the men's bathroom. After a good handwashing and series of self-depricating thoughts, I walked out of the bathroom just as my date was leaving. She had an odd smile on her face, but didn't say anything. We got back to the movie and the movie continued on and still she didn't say anything.

Did I really get away with this?

But I couldn't shake the feeling that something felt wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it at first. I felt my pockets. My cellphone was gone. I looked around my seat and must have muttered, "Where's my cellphone?"

My date responded, "Where do you think you could have left it?"

I had a pretty good idea actually. I leaned back in my chair, shook my head and just sighed. There was no way I could sneak into the ladies' room again. I told her. She burst out laughing, drawing the attention of everyone in the auditorium. At the end of the date, she checked the ladies' room, I checked the men's. Very romantic.

It wasn't my best showing.