As promised...

A few nights ago Randy and I had dinner with Brooke and Megan at Don Emilio's. Somehow, amidst the fajita burritos and Dr. Peppers, we started talking about bad dates. Megan and I were reminded of the time we shared a room at Life Options with Karrie and Lesley and we all told "bad date" stories. Well, I'm proud to say I won the prize of Worst Date Ever.
I don't want to bore you with all the details, as there are many, so I shortened it a little.

I'm a junior in high school, and it's getting close to the time of year when every dateless high schooler panics about who they're going to prom with. I don't have a date and I, for some reason, think it will be a good idea to call up this guy I went to high school with: Adam Berardi. He was the kid who, in 8th grade in rural Southeastern Ohio, had dreadlocks and was rumored to have been busted for pot. "He's changed," my friends told me. You be the judge.

1. I arrive at Cutler's Restaurant in the Ohio University Inn by myself. My date has no car.
2. My date steps on my dress throughout dinner saying something about "you know what they say about a guy with big feet..."
3. My date pours liquor from a flask into his Mountain Dew at dinner.
4. We make a few stops before prom:
a. His friend's house for a flask refill
b. Tony's Bar in uptown Athens to pick up my corsage. My corsage.
5. I drive to prom and he asks to leave his flask in my car. I politely say no.
6. Prom happens.
7. We dance. Once. He touches my back, and I almost throw up.
8. We leave. Early.
9. I take him back to his filling station/friend's house.
10. He leans over to kiss me (as if the date were going well), and I luckily decide to fumble with the clips in my hair.

To give you a better picture of what Adam was like in high school, I have included a glorious entry to my sophomore yearbook.



Sorry for the explicatives, but I wanted you to get the full effect.

Go Lancers.