A Bad Case of the Dates A Bad Case of the Dates

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It was our last date. And hopefully, someday, a good date.

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This is when I find out that it's her one and only ex, but they remained best friends, and nothing is happening between them. It occurred to me in the same instant that if I wanted to finish things as neatly as possible, it would be necessary for me to placate her and acquiesce completely.

Most of our time together thus far had been pleasant. Then, her text came: I gave her her phone and she stormed down to an Amtrak station that was close by.

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I know she can be difficult. I'm fucking stressing you out? We'll fucking see who stresses who out! A train came by shortly thereafter and Willa jumped onto it with her bag. We went to the local broom corn festival.

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Dropped me off, walked me to my door and leaned in only to meet my hand in his face. In fact, Willa had clicked it up to Dated a guy just one date who kept one fingernail long for picking his guitar.

I had an extreme allergic reaction to the tall grasses and I began sneezing uncontrollably and my eyes swelled shut — not kidding — and so he had to lead me, blind, back down the mountain, periodically pausing to leap like a gazelle.

From reading the other ones, I think we should all stop going on blind dates! I don't want to spend another minute with you, you fucking disgusting thing.

While I sat shocked in the passenger seat. How come we haven't found it? We stopped at a drive thru liquor store so I could serve them beer from the back seat as we drove an hour to the festival. I had no way to reach her or find out where she was. Sure enough, Willa came back.

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When I got home I saw all the little bang hairs on my nose and all over my face!