Title:           Awkward Date
Author:          DJ-Wish
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/WjiftZuc
First Edit:      Tuesday 10th of December 2013 07:22:54 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Tuesday 10th of December 2013 07:22:54 PM CDT

>Be Me.
>Incog is trying to convince me to go out with one of his friends.
In: Come on, Sammy. Just one night. If you don't like him you never have to speak to him again.
Me: Or, I could just spare myself the trouble and not talk to him anyway.
In: I lost a bet to him! I told him I'd get him a date and you're the last option I have.
Me: You asked every girl in the school and they all said no?
In: I asked a few boys too.
Me: He must be a real charmer.
>Look down at my guitar, then back to my notes.
>It isn't flowing right tonight.
>The rhythm isn't there.
>Maybe I need another drink.
>Get up and head to the kitchen.
>Incog follows.
In: Sammy, I already told him you would be ok with it and he's going to be here in half an hour.
>Get a bottle of the good stuff out of my corner of the fridge.
Me: Well, that sounds like it isn't my problem.
>Push past him and head up to my room.
>Just as I open the door, he runs up the stairs.
In: I'll pay you.
>I'm listening now.
>Turn around.
Me: How much?
In: One hundred.
Me: Nope.
In: Two hundred?
Me: Getting warmer.
In: I won't go higher than three. Please Sam you gotta help me.
Me: Make it three fifty for calling me Sam and you got yourself a deal.
In: Fine, but you have to at least try to enjoy the date.
Me: Yeah whatever, now go away, I have to get ready.
>Fucking hell, what have I gotten myself into.
>An easy 350, that's what.
>I'll use it to enter us into that vacation sweepstakes I saw on TV.
>Fuck yeah.
>But first I have to endure this date.
>I don't even know who it's with.
>Fuck it, he doesn't deserve my best effort.
>No need for a shower.
>Brush teeth
>New pants, new shirt.
>Sweatshirt, headphones around my neck just in case.
>Brush my hair to the side, spray some perfume I rarely use.
>Ready, and with fifteen minutes to spare.
>Head out the door of my room, down the stairs, Incog is watching tv.
Me: I want to be paid in advance.
In: What? Why?
Me: Because I've been tricked into losing money that way before, now give me the money or your friend goes home crying.
>He looks worried.
In: Fine, fine. Bollocks, I was saving this money.
>Takes out his wallet and gives my the money.
>His wallet has the English flag on it.
>What a loser.
>Count the money and put it in my pocket.
Me: So who am I going on a date with?
In: Friend of mine. He isn't too bad, he can be cool.
>Incog's friend.
>Cool.
>I'll believe it when I see it, in the meantime I might as well put away my instruments.
>Gather up my shit, making sure to step in front of the television as much as I can.
>He looks mad, but keeps his mouth shut.
Me: You seen my pick?
In: What's a pick?
>Brits.
Me: Never mind, I found it.
>Pull it out from the couch cushions and bring the equipment upstairs.
>Never trust anyone in this house with an instrument.
>I learned that the hard way.
>There's a knock on the door and I make no attempt to rush down the stairs.
>I casually stroll down them, looking at the door for a good three seconds and taking a left into the kitchen.
In: Aren't you going to answer the bloody door?
>I laugh.
Me: No, you can do that.
In: Sammy, he's standing out there in the rain!
>I laugh again.
Me: Wow, sounds like a rough start to a rough night.
>He gets up, opening the door to a young looking pasty white kid.
>Damn he's whiter than me, and that's saying something.
In: Hey Featherweight.
Fe: Hey Incog. I got you that DVD you wanted.
>He hands Incog an unmarked DVD case.
>Incog takes it quickly and puts it behind his back.
In: Thanks. Sorry about the rain, I know it's pissin' cold outside.
Fe: No problem.
>I'm just watching them from the kitchen, not speaking, still sipping from the bottle.
In: I kept my deal, Feather. I got you a semi-good looking date for tonight.
>Fucker.
Fe: Oh, swell, I can't wait for my first date.
>Holy crap. Who says swell anymore? And is that a tux.
>Ugh, let's get this over with.
Me: I couldn't help but overhear that you were my, uh, handsome date tonight.
>Don't barf, don't barf.
>He's just another nerd.
>You can get over it.
Fe: Aw, shucks. Thanks-
>He turns to look at me and almost hits the floor with his chin.
>He's practically drooling.
>Is 350 really worth it? I can still turn back.
>No, I already took the money.
>Well, here goes nothing.
Me: Yep, no problem. Now let's go before I change my mind.
>He nods.
Fe: Ok, sounds like a plan. Wait, did you say change your mind?
Me: Yeah, I meant change my mind about where we're going tonight. I was thinking dinner, you?
>He keeps nodding.
Fe: Oh yes, that's what I was thinking. How about McDonalds.
>That's not a fucking dinner!
>This kid is a lost cause.
Me: Sure. sounds like, fun.
>We walk out the door and I give Incog one last, 'I'm going to rip you a new one when I get back' face.
Me: So, um, should we take your car or mine?
Fe: Oh, I don't have a car, my mom drove me here.
>Oh for God's sake.
>It’s ok, I can still make this work.
>This only has to be a bad evening if I make it to be one.
Me: Ok, we can take my car, where are we going? McDonalds?
>He nods as he gets into the car.
Fe: Yuhuh, it’s one of my favorite restaurants.
>It barely qualifies as a restaurant.
>It’s more of a fast food joint.
>But I can still dig it, maybe.
>I get in, trying to avoid thinking about what the rest of this night will be like.
>I pull out of the drive way and begin the short trip down the road to MickyD’s.
>It doesn’t take long and by the time we get there I’ve already decided to wash my car seat when I get home.
>Maybe I’m being too quick to judge.
>Maybe he’s a nice kid.
>I doubt it though and I guess I’ll know by the end of the night whether this was worth the payment.
>We get of the car and walk to the door.
>He holds it open for me, allowing me to walk through.
>Well, he had manners, so I’ll give him that.
>Inside the building, we’re the only customers and the cashier doesn’t look happy to see up, like we just ruined his nap.
>We probably did.
>After we order our food, he tells me he needs to go to the bathroom.
Fe: I won’t be gone long, love.
>I’m blushing, not because it’s romantic or anything, but because if anyone I know sees me on a date like this I’ll be the laughing stock of school for three months.
>While he’s gone, I grab my phone and send a text to Incog.
Out: Wtf man, this kid brought me to McD’s.
>Wait a few seconds and he replies.
In: Just be cool, don’t blow this, ok?
>I hear the bathroom door open and send one final message.
Out: Don’t blow it? Please, if anyone is going to blow it it’s this kid.
>Then I set my phone down and half-smile when he gets back.
Fe: Phew, I wouldn’t go in there for a while.
>That’s gross.
>Usually I would try to envision what the person is telling me.
>Now I just shut it right down, nope, not going to think about it.
>The guy at the counter yells or number and Featherweight goes to get our food.
>He brings back the tray and sets it on the table.
>I grab my sandwich and fries and go to reach for my drink when my phone vibrates, distracting me for just a second.
>My hand continues forward just a little too far and the drink tips over onto his side of the table.
>His clothes are immediately soaked and he gets up quick.
Me: Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to.
>He just stands there looking from his clothes to the spilled drink and back to his clothes.
>Then a tear starts to form in his eye.
>Oh god no, please anything but that.
>For the love of Christ please, please, please do not make me have to comfort him.
>But then the waterworks start.
>They start slow, just streams of liquid coming from his eyes, then they turn into sobs.
Me: Aw shit, listen I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean to it was an accident.
>Now I’m patting him on the shoulder. Giving him a sort of half-hug without touching any of the wet spots.
>Eventually he’s calmed down enough to speak and is no longer crying.
>I’m still standing there awkwardly sort of holding him, comforting him.
Fe: I think I should go home. Can you drive me back to my house?
>Oh finally.
>I agree to take him home and we walk to the car.
>On the way to his house, he just keeps silently sobbing to himself.
>When we get to his house, I find the strength to at least walk him to the door.
Me: Hey bud, I’m sorry about what happened back there. I’m sure it would have been a pretty, uh, magical evening.
>He just nods and walks inside, closing the door on me.
>Well, I’d say that was one of my more successful dates so far at this school.
>Cool beans.
>Now I’m going to go home, wash the car seat, go to bed, and sleep this off like a bad hangover.
>I can’t believe Incog made me do this, all for just $350.
>That was enough awkwardness and spaghetti to rival a pasta convention.
>On the ride back, I decide that the date was worth 350, just because he did have some manners.
>I mean, he wasn’t all bad, but the thing that really killed it for me was his personality.
>Why can’t I find any good guys in this town?
>I’ve already hinted my love for that one nigga many times, but he’s too dense to see it.
>Oh well, back to square one.
>Though I did learn something from tonight.
>Don’t trust Incog to make dates.
>Maybe I’ll add ‘beat up Incog’ to the list of things I have to do when I get home.
End.