Being an awkward kid, and a somewhat still awkward adult, I’ve had plenty of horrible, “please kill me now” cringeworthy moments throughout my life. This one easily lands in the top 5.
Neftlix and Not-So-Chill
So, a couple of years ago I was seeing this girl and we were taking things kind of slow. We had talked casually for a long time, but had just started hanging out in person not long before this, and only a handful of times at that. We hadn’t had sex yet, but things were certainly heading in that direction.
So one evening we’re texting and she asks me if I want to “come over and watch Netflix or something.”
Now, as any millennial will tell you, this phrase is pretty much holding up a big cardboard sign in your face that says “I would like to have sex with you, but I can’t just come out and ask you to come over and have sex.” So I think hey, tonight is gonna be a good night! I slip a condom in my back pocket and head to her house.
I park my truck and step out, and that’s when the first wrench in my gears is thrown. I hear a bunch of people talking on her porch. Hmm, that’s weird, I think. Doesn’t sound like the type of night she described… I walk up and it’s her, her sister, and their friends all sitting around chatting. I had met a couple of them on occasion, but didn’t know any of them well at that point in time. Not quite a Netflix and chill situation but oh well, I can roll with the punches!
So, I sit down and jump in the conversation. I’m cracking jokes, having a good time, being the suave, interesting, and handsome man my grandma tells me I am. I’m feeling like Frank Sinatra fuckin’ Junior in this group of seven or eight women.
That’s when I start feeling a little chill in the air of this magical summer’s night. “I’m gonna go grab my jacket out of my truck,” I say as I casually stand up and walk around the corner.
I grab the jacket and am turning around to walk back when I hear one of the girls say—”If it was me, I wouldn’t even come back. I would just get in my car and go.”
I’m shocked for a moment… another wrench is thrown in my gears. Was I really that bad at carrying a conversation? What’s going on? Okay, keep it cool, Tom… no big deal just keep it cool and pretend you never heard that…
I walk around the corner and every girl there is staring at me in silence. I stop in my tracks. I stare back. No one says a word for a moment.
Then her sister breaks the silence—”So uhhh, Tom… is that yours?”
I look over at my chair. There, sitting on the cushion, is the condom that was in my back pocket. It looks like there is an 800-watt spotlight centered on it.
My vision spins. My brain searches for a lie. Think, think, think. I stammer. I stutter. A semi truck has driven into my gears now.
“I uhhh… I was just… well… SHE SAID COME OVER AND WATCH NETFLIX AND HANG OUT.”
They’re all laughing now.
“NETFLIX AND CH—I JUST…”
“I’m gonna… yea, I think I’m gonna go, let me just grab this,” I said as I picked up the lonely rubber and put it into a different pocket.
I had to laugh at the situation myself, but I also would have just as quickly jumped into a helicopter, flown to the nearest mountain, and spent out the rest of my days up there as a hermit and reminiscing on the old days and weeping silently each morning.
I could tell the girls could just feel the pain emanating from my entire body and they empathized accordingly with consoling comments such as “as least he’s being safe,” and “wow, I would probably kill myself.”
I ended up staying the rest of the evening and making the most out of it by joking along with them, but I learned a valuable lesson that night. Never, ever, EVER, use a condom.
Kidding, of course.
Thanks for reading! As always, peace and happy travels.