Sunday, January 19, 2020

First Date in A Bad Restaurant :: essays papers

First Date in A Bad Resteraunt It was a beautiful fall evening. The sun was just beginning to give way to incoming twilight. I could smell winter in the air, even through my closed window. Soon there'd be snow on the ground. Matchbox Twenty was playing on my clock radio." I want to push you around...† The mood was set for a soft autumn night. However the mood inside my room was quite different. I was running around trying to do a million things a one time. My makeup was all wrong for my outfit. My hair was too big, no, now too flat. My stomach was rolling inside itself. My poor tummy was on tumble dry and I couldn't quite get it to stop. I couldn't find my shoes; my shirt had foundation on the side. What I really wanted to do was to sit on my bed and cry. Brian had called twenty minutes before the chaos. I could not believe he had called me. He probably thought I was stupid because I was so tongue-tied. He asked me if I would mind coming to dinner with him and a few of his friends. Would I mind? Do cows moo? The horn honked. My frustration grew. If this was a real date, my first one ever, shouldn't he come to the door and pick me up? Maybe take my arm in his and lead me to the car? I had envisioned my first date to at least start off right. This must be an omen. I walked out the door. The moment I heard the click of the lock I knew I looked horrible. A million thoughts raced through my mind, among these were the fact that I should have worn the blue shirt, my hair looks horrible, and oh God everyone is watching me. I tried to hide the sheer gut-retching fear that was boiling in my stomach. I had to do this. I was in too deep to turn and run now. My sweet chariot of the night was a 1988 van. Rust covered the bumper and half of the door. The color of had once been maroon, however had now faded to a slight orange color. Alternative rock boomed from the less then quality speakers. There were at least 6 people in the car, and it was rocking from side to side, in time to the beat.

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