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confession time
Jul. 24th, 2008 12:10 amSo, in Vegas, at the albinism conference, I met a girl. Seems to always happen when I go on vacation. I swear I'll never get another vacation crush, and suddenly some hot, smart 23-year-old starts following me around, telling me she'll wait for me when I mention I have to go back to my room and get something, instead of saying she'll catch me later... little hints like that.
I have a finite supply of charm in a given week, and I spent it all. We talked to each other about our respective hometowns, and she's as proud of hers as I am of mine. She tells the story of the gay waiter that hit on her dad. I tell her that our locally-produced kids show had a superhero that was a bigger ham than Zapp Brannigan. I spotted the guy who hosted the panel discussions on genetics and waved him over, and we both asked him a few questions. Considering we both have albinism, she may have been impressed that I spotted a guy from 30 feet away. I had her try some of the chipotle chocolate i got at the airport, and she liked it, and we had some fun watching a few more people try it. And I delivered a few tactful compliments.
Saturday afternoon rolls around, and 5:00 approaches, time for the big group photo. So she has to get fixed up. And she does this by taking the scrunchie out of her hair, and putting on lipstick, which takes about 45 seconds. This brings her from an 8 to a 9, which is as attractive as you can get before I start thinking you're a Cylon assigned to kill me. And she achieved it without spending an hour fussing in the bathroom. So I do what any rational man would do when confronted with such a sight, and asked her to marry me.
Her reaction was to ask me what religion I am, as if that would determine the answer. I answered that I was an atheist. The correct answer was Catholic, so she declined to marry me. But she still seemed to want to be around me, and we continued to mingle in the crowd more or less together.
Feel free to chime in with how you would have played it at this point. The story is to be continued. But I figured I'd get out the part where things were going well, so I could get to sleep in a good mood.
I have a finite supply of charm in a given week, and I spent it all. We talked to each other about our respective hometowns, and she's as proud of hers as I am of mine. She tells the story of the gay waiter that hit on her dad. I tell her that our locally-produced kids show had a superhero that was a bigger ham than Zapp Brannigan. I spotted the guy who hosted the panel discussions on genetics and waved him over, and we both asked him a few questions. Considering we both have albinism, she may have been impressed that I spotted a guy from 30 feet away. I had her try some of the chipotle chocolate i got at the airport, and she liked it, and we had some fun watching a few more people try it. And I delivered a few tactful compliments.
Saturday afternoon rolls around, and 5:00 approaches, time for the big group photo. So she has to get fixed up. And she does this by taking the scrunchie out of her hair, and putting on lipstick, which takes about 45 seconds. This brings her from an 8 to a 9, which is as attractive as you can get before I start thinking you're a Cylon assigned to kill me. And she achieved it without spending an hour fussing in the bathroom. So I do what any rational man would do when confronted with such a sight, and asked her to marry me.
Her reaction was to ask me what religion I am, as if that would determine the answer. I answered that I was an atheist. The correct answer was Catholic, so she declined to marry me. But she still seemed to want to be around me, and we continued to mingle in the crowd more or less together.
Feel free to chime in with how you would have played it at this point. The story is to be continued. But I figured I'd get out the part where things were going well, so I could get to sleep in a good mood.
