Here is a true story, brought to you by one of my nearest and dearest. I will report, though, that she is now happily married to a great guy (Read: Not Fuqua). I've inserted my own comments/observations/laughter as well. Enjoy!
Dear Fuqua,
Guys like you are the reason people hate Duke. We met at a bar in Durham; I was with my friends, you were with yours. You were pretty good looking, an uncanny resemblance to Luke Wilson. We put two and two together that we lived in the same apartment building, I worked at Duke and you were getting your MBA, and eventually you got my number.
Fast forward SIX weeks. You actually call. (Frankly, I am suprised you even remembered him). Nothing says "I'm lazy, didn't really care to call you, but now have nothing better going on" than waiting 6 weeks. But, being a girl that loves to party and loves food even more, when you asked me over for dinner and a movie I said sure. Afterall, it wasn't like I was going out of my way to get to your place. Even more, since I don't cook, I'm always on the lookout for a good meal. (Amen. A girl's gotta eat!) Boy did I look to the wrong place. I show up at your place, and there's no food to be found. You act as if it wasn't even part of the plan. (the old bait and switch... c'mon dude, if there isn't food involved, we're not interested).
You proceed to tell me about your study abroad in Germany, and even break out a map just to be sure I understand just how unique you and your experiences are. (C'mon now, I mean NOTHING is more exotic than Western Europe.) The rest of the evening, your sentences are a mixed-completion of half English words and half German words because "nothing quite captures some things like the German language." As if it couldn't get any worse, the movie you've rented is from the recent film festival in, you guessed it, Germany. I follow along thanks to the subtitles. I. Hate. Subtitles. (Out of all the foreign genres to watch in film, Germany has produced some of the worst. I know, because I took a German film class in college and we joked during the class that you knew the movie was over when everyone committed suicide. No, seriously. That's how ALL 12 films in that class ended).
The movie ends - not soon enough - and I am ready to get the heck out of there. I tell you that not only do I need to go, but I've got work to do before the morning. The fact that I was more willing to do work than stay with you should have been a clear message to you. But no, you insist on going in for the kiss. Not knowing how to say "no" in German, I looked down and you kissed the top of my head like I was a child. (Aw Olive Garden's Soul Mate!)
Over the next few weeks it would seem you were making up for not calling in the first six weeks as you called EVERY. DAY. The few times I answered I would make up the lamest excuses known to man, but it just didn't seem to register with you. Six seems to be your magic number, because that's how many weeks of "no" it took before you stopped calling.
To recap for potential last night's dates out there:
1. if you are lucky to get our number, you should use it. preferably the next day. act fast! in this particular instance, she had already started dating her future husband. not that it would have ever worked out for y'all anyway.
2. do not EVER trick us by dangling food in front of us and failing to deliver. hungry girls = angry girls.
3. if you are at a loss for things to talk about, talk about us. ask us about us. don't talk about yourself. if we cared to know, we'd ask.
4. if i am not excited to see you, i will come up with lame excuses. they are just that, excuses. excuses so I don't have to see you. if either of those excuses are "work" and/or "household chores", it means I would rather light myself on fire than hang out with you again.
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