“So, he kisses me, right, and then he goes, ‘So?’ Like, to get my opinion, and I say, ‘Do you want a grade, or a ranking?’”
My awkward first kiss story is enough to get the total knockout midwestern hunk across the greasy Red Robin table red in the face with laughter. “What did he say to that?”
“He asked for a ranking, and I said he made top six.”
He guffaws again, displaying his gorgeous smile, and a perfect set of teeth (Oh, and pink gums. We’ve got a flosser, people!). “Top six? He probably didn’t recover from that one.”
“No, he did. The kiss after that was way better, so I told him he made top four.”
He starts to cackle. Again. He’s laughing loud enough to make the elderly couple in the booth behind him lean and turn around to see what’s all the racket.
I figure, so what if he laughs a lot? You’re funny. Besides, dating is painful enough, especially two hours in, so making him laugh is a good way to keep spirits high.
Plus, he’s good looking enough to make “Wiscaaaaaansin” sound good.
Okay, I think to myself, this isn’t comedy hour. Let’s get the crowd in on this action.
“So, tell me about yourself!”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” I say, thinking, Because I’m tired of carrying this conversation on my back.
“Well, I’m an accounting major.”
“Riveting,” I shoot back, smiling.
He blinks. He missed the sarcasm. Oops.
“It’s actually really interesting,” he retorts, defensive.
“Oh, I believe it! Spreadsheets are my jam.”
His chuckle brings a sigh of relief. Ok, we’re back on the right track.
Is it just me, or is his laugh starting to make him sound like the Joker from The Dark Knight?
Think quick, he doesn’t have a response. “Do you have siblings?”
“Yeah, two. They’re back in Wisconsin.”
“So that would make you three… Children of the corn.”
He groans, “That’s a horrible joke!”
“Yeah, you got me.” Hey, at least I’m trying to be funny.
“So what do you have going on after this?”
“I’ve got a pot of tea and a good book calling my name.”
He laughs. Again. That wasn’t even meant to be funny.
“You’ve probably got a stack of Xbox games and a couple of cats waiting on you at home, huh?” I teased. In my mind I scream, DISH IT BACK, BOY, DISH IT BACK.
But he didn't get the signal. Dry as a bone, he says, “Nah, I’ll probably turn in early.”
Defeated (and, frankly, bored), I reply, “Gotta catch up on your beauty sleep.”
He laughs. At this point, homeboy would laugh if I asked for a side of fries.
“So, I had a great time tonight.”
...Uh oh. Here it comes.
“You’re hilarious. Girls aren’t usually this funny.”
The buzzer sounds. Next. “Check, please?”
