Storytime!

You know what really grinds my gears?

Introductions that have absolutely no relevance or connection to a writer's main idea. It's the worst. It's like a literary game of syke. Or an episode of the Family Guy. I hate shows that pull away from the story for some bullcrap.

So I thought that I would treat everyone to the picturebook fairytale that was one of my first dates with Denise. The setting is the year 2006, on a brisk saturday evening in January. I was at the time a fresh off-the-plane return missionary for my LDS church, spending two years in the backalleys of Colorado's finest one horse towns. I haven't had a date in 25 months. I haven't flirted with a girl in forever, and at this point I'd hardly been working at Lexus for a month and it was post Christmas, so I was broke as a joke. I borrow money from my dad, as well as his luxury Hyundai XG300, otherwise known as a glorified Sonata. I'm a little nervous.

So I also was supplied by my dad two tickets to the Fremont Symphony Orchestra. Yes, THE Fremont Symphony Orchestra. Originally I was instructed by my dad to take my sweet mother out to the show, but when he met Denise and was made aware of a schedule conflict the night of the show, the tickets were offered in an attempt to land them a sweet daughter-in-law. What kind of respectable girl doesn't like the Symphony?

So I pick up Denise and take her to the most hip, upscale, trendy dining establishment that I can think of/afford. China Chilis. Can Chinese food get any better? Probably not, but ignorance is bliss. We have a nice table for two near the player piano, and I'm pretty much playing my cards exactly right. Sweet car, expensive food, and I was wearing a tie.

Just when I think things couldn't get any better, I look to the door and see my hopes and dreams of a hot massage therapist mormon girlfriend pretty much shatter: My dad walks through the doorway, walking right towards us. Of all the gin joints in all the world. He apparently went through the trouble of making Denise and I a map to Ohlone College where the concert will take place. I'd been going to Ohlone for five semesters by now, but just in case I didn't know my way around, he drew a sketch of the parking lot and let us in on a little secret VIP parking spot close to the Smith Center. I'm in panic.

I have no idea what Denise is thinking, but all I can think is, man, this is going to be an EXPENSIVE last date.

We finish dinner and follow my dad's handdrawn map, which actually did give us a sweet parking spot. We made it through about 2 and half songs until we'd had our fill, and we bounced. Upon returning to my dad's car in my dad's private parking spot, we discovered a love letter from a member of Ohlone's police force. My dad's parking spot resulted in a parking ticket, because he had us park in the middle of a loading zone!

Any normal floozie would have dropped me like a bad habit, but somehow Denise's mom caught us making out on her driveway later that night. Give me a high five!