SPLAT

A year after my stalker saga, I finally opened up to dating. It wasn’t that my faith in the male of the species was restored, but my sister convinced me that I should avoid my path towards social freakhood and ostracism. I agreed to go out with a friend of hers. She had nothing but nice things to say about him.

I honestly don’t remember his name. All I remember is that he was really tall, knew martial arts, and was not blond. While driving to dinner, he confessed that he only befriended my sister to get closer to me. I think he was trying to flatter me. I found this appalling. Especially after all the nice things she said about him. It was an immediate validation of my dating sabbatical.

The rest of the night was so-so. I let him kiss me after dinner (Probably the wine). He asked if I felt the electricity between us. So cheesy. He really thought I was going to sleep with him. I knew this because after I asked him to drive me home, he called and cancelled a hotel room.

Dickhead.

Two weeks later my sister told me, SPLAT, he got hit by a truck. I Laughed. I couldn’t stop laughing. She got all upset. It never even occurred to me to ask if he was still alive. At least, not until she said he got away with only a few broken bones. I did wonder what kind of truck it was, if only for the visual. 

I can't even tell that story without a giggle. I guess I would call that schadenfreude (pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others). But in my defense, he really was a dickhead.