DARLA: "okay, so the guy showed up at the door. his name was wolfson. and like i said, he was cute enough. we were just going to 'hang out' at a bar about 40 minutes away, to hear his roommate play 'experimental guitar.' so we get in the car, and as soon as the door closes, he says, '...comfortable, milady?' and i'm not sure why, but that phrase instantly made him a little less cute to me. he kind of looked like john stamos, by the way... but with more weight on him. so i was like, 'yes, sure,' and he said, '...i must insist you buckle up. safety first...' then he added cryptically, '...the safety dance?' and he waggled his eyebrows like he meant something by it. it was the first time in the date i seriously considered 'ditching,' but by then we were traveling 45 mph down the street. so we drive, in total silence, when he draws my attention to a little bag on the floorboards that looked like it was made out that spin doctors' guy's shirt. he said, '...why don't you pick out one of my mix tapes? i craft them specially for occasions like this. anything you play will be fine with me...' then he adds, again with some innuendo behind it, '...its allll good...!' so i rummage around in the swag-bag for a sec, he tells me to turn on the overheard light so i can see the labels. the first one i pull out says, 'summer: tull, pink floyd, miles davis.' before i can even open my mouth, he says, '...don't play that one. it reminds me of ...allison.' so i put it back, and pull out the next one; it just says 'nite mix.' he's like, '...that one doesn't play anymore.' so my hand goes back into the bag. i realize it smells like wood chips. (the bag) the next one i pull out says, 'allison's love mix.' i put it back before he could see which one it was. the next one had the tape-celluloid like, tangled and hanging out of it, which sucked, because the label said: 'vintage U2 and duran.' on the next label, i see the phrase 'j giles band,' ummm, i don't think so. so like, almost ten minutes have gone by, all we can hear is the engine and the road, and he says, '...hey, i guess this is what they call an awkward silence.' so i shoot back, saying, '...why don't you pick something then?' he shakes his head, puts his hand on my knee very breifly, and says in a fake-sounding soft voice, '...i trust you.' soooo, my hand goes back in the bag. before i can even pull out the next tape, he says with a very noticeable trace of attitude, '...do you think you could hurry it up? i can't see a damn thing with this overhead light on.' i was stunned... he totally said it like it had been my idea to put the light on in the first place. so i throw in the very next tape without looking at it. the first thing i hear is, coming in mid-song, is rick springfield's 'human touch.' and this idiot barks out, '....leave it!!' like i was gonna take it out after all that. i already wanted to go home. oh, we did eventually get to the club. his friend was so completely shitfaced drunk that half-way through his pitiful guitar thing, he fell asleep on the stool whilst doing a long extended 'fade out' to guns and roses 'patience.' someone had to go up onstage to nudge him awake, and the very first thing out of this guy's mouth was, '...i'm not holding!!' then he looked around, remembered where he was, and went into a terrible acoustic rendition of 'iron man.' it was endless. like, he was too drunk to know when to 'jump off ' of the riff, you know? i got home sometime around midnight. wolfson insisted on walking 'milady' to the door. so, we're at the door, and i know he's angling for a kiss because he's standing super-unnaturally close to me, and keeps humming, '...hmmm,' in between asking me things he should've asked hours ago... things like, '...so, how were you in high school? like, popular? not popular? hmmm?' and like, '...can you cook? i have this.... ziti dish i like to make.' and i was all like, 'why is he asking me all this crap now? the date's over! i wanna go in, take off my uncomfortable shoes and 'kill' the rest of that pistachio gelato i know i still have in the freezer!' but he keeps leaning in and saying things like, '...how old were you when you left home? i can just picture you... a girl on her own, finding herself, trying new things...' and i'm like, 'what in the hell is he talking about?' so i answer him with the shortest, most fact-based answers, like i have a contest with someone on how few words i can use and still get the question answered. and he keeps getting closer and closer, and man, i have to confess, i finally gave up and let him kiss me so he'd shut the eff up and let me go inside. he kissed me, right away putting his tongue in. and at that point, i didn't even care... i was like, 'tongue, no tongue,' whatever. so the tame, spitty kiss lasts about 40 seconds, maybe a little less. then we part, he wipes his lower lip and says, '...mmm, ten out of ten...' and i didn't ask. i think i said something like, '...no problem,' which i don't know if it was rude or not. he walked backwards off the porch to his car, apparently trying to maintain eye contact. but of course, ultimately he had to turn around and look down to unlock and get back into the car. as soon as i was inside, and the door was closed, i look down and see my cat, and say, '...god, mr. whiskers... i should've gone out with you.' oh, and for what its worth, after i've been in the house for like, eleven minutes, like, long enough to take off my shoes and have a pee, i look out, and see his car's still sitting out there... and the interior light is on, and i can see he's doing something that looks like he's cleaning junk out of his center console. he stayed out there almost twenty minutes, just idling and doing car maintenance. i hid in the kitchen, looking out. and i'll be damned if he didn't like, carry out a bunch of stuff... like, junk and 'take-out' trash, and even a clear plastic dry cleaning bag... he's got like, an armful of trash, and puts it in my personal garbage which was not even out to the curb yet. like, he walked up next to the house and put it in there! i'm pretty sure that might be illegal or something. he finally drove off. as far as i'm concerned, 'allison' can have him."
