Writing In Bed


On my blog, I briefly shared about the night my date shoved a pork chop into his shirt pocket and later ate it when we got to the event we attended. I will now share with you the details about this particular night and you can feel free to laugh at the choices I make in life.

Last January, I was talking to a guy who we will hereafter refer to as Jimmy. A bit of an awkward fellow, Jimmy wasn’t into much except engineering, guns and tacos. As we got to know each other, I mentioned that I’d never attended any Supercross events. He surprised me with two tickets to the one in Anaheim, CA that month and we agreed that would be our first date.

We planned to have an early dinner at my house and leave to Supercross form there. I was really excited to show off how great I am at cooking breaded pork chops and Rice-a-Roni. It doesn’t take a genius to make either of those things, but it’s pretty true that you can win over most men if you fill their bellies with delicious food.

He was supposed to show up at 2pm to give us enough time to eat and then drive to the event. The hours rolled by and my nervousness turned into annoyance because he still hadn’t shown up and the food was cold. Finally, about 2 hours after he was supposed to arrive, he let me know he was running late because he was helping with some important errands for his mom.

I’m fine with that, of course. Any favors done for moms get priority. But I was utterly annoyed that he waited so long to send a text message to at least keep me informed. Also, I was terribly nervous about seeing him and prolonging the anxiety just frustrated me. I ate without him.

When he finally showed up, he knew we were low on time and he would have to eat quickly. I heated up his plate in the microwave and he ate one of the pork chops I served him. He liked them so much that he asked for aluminum foil and he wrapped up the second one and then put it in the front pocket of his work shirt.  I would like to add that he was unemployed at the time and wore a work shirt to our first date. I mean, I’ll admit that I’m a total sucker for good-looking grease monkeys, and he was definitely cute. I love those button up shirts, I do, and perhaps there was something oddly flattering about him wanting to take that pork chop with him to eat later. I know my cooking is tasty but no one has ever stashed it in their pockets. Was he a keeper or what?

We got to the event and it was so cold that I worried my nose was leaking without me noticing. We huddled together as we watched motorbikes flying and leaping in every lap around the course. He helped me choose a guy to cheer for as we sipped our beers. About a half hour into it, he pulled the pork chop out of his pocket, peeled back the foil, and ate it like it was the best thing in the world.

On the drive back, he pulled up the center console in the front seat of his truck to show that I could sit next to him if I wanted. I moved over and put on the middle seat belt and he kept an arm around me the whole drive back.

Before we got back to my place, we satisfied an urge for a late taco dinner and stopped by King Taco, best know for its late-night after-the-club/bar Mexican food. He even recognized one of the guys behind the counter, saying he was someone who ran a food truck he frequented while working as a mechanic. We had some tacos and finally headed home.

It’s safe to say that this first date was more of a glimpse into the life of a man who tweaks engines than a typical hit or miss date night with a guy. I suppose some girls get flowers and a quiet dinner in a nice restaurant. Others get coffee and conversation with a cutie. I tend to get diesel fumes, pyrotechnics and Coors.