Horrible Thrills! Excruciating Chills! Disaster Dates!! Just when you thought you were looking oh-so-suave and sexy, God places a banana peel under your blue suede shoes by D.L. Murphy

It’s Valentine’s time again. Lucky me, I live with the current love of my life, and am spared the traditional Valentine’s angst of the single. But let me tell you, I have spent massive amounts of time (and massive amounts of money) looking for a date, going out on dates, and recovering from dates (and near dates) prior to arriving at this state of marital bliss. Let me share some of my true-to-life dating adventure stories.

A woman I met via personal ads and I met for coffee. I was really impressed, and asked her if she would like to have dinner. She said yes. I asked what cuisine appealed to her that evening. She said Italian. I take her to Vincent’s. No, no appetizer, it might have garlic in it. No, no salad, it might have garlic in it. She orders a steak, very rare, no seasonings. I am very confused by someone who apparently hates garlic but who asks to go to an Italian restaurant. I am very frightened when she tells me that she is a vampire (and seems to believe it). I immediately order and consume a head of roasted garlic. I belch uncontrollably for an hour afterward. But hey, it saved me from a vampire.

I am standing in the old Ranch, recovering from the above encounter. I am not in the mood for company. This woman keeps following me around the bar, trying to get me to buy her a drink. I tell her that I always thought women soliciting drinks in bars were working. She hits me over the head with her shoe (after one of her friends explained to her exactly what I meant)....

Next disaster, I show up at my then-current inamorata’s with a Black Forest cake in one hand and a shower curtain in the other. Little did I know she had invited her parents to dinner. They were happy I brought dessert. They gave the shower curtain (which my girlfriend left on the kitchen counter) funny looks all evening....

OK, I tell myself, keep trying. Girlfriend and I plan on spending a decadent weekend at the Ritz Carlton. Girlfriend thinks it would be a good idea to invite Dear Neighbor to the Ritz’s famous Friday afternoon tea, a civilized social interlude to contrast with our scheduled weekend of decidedly uncivilized festivities. We all have a lovely time. At the end of the afternoon, on her way out the door, Dear Neighbor, smiling sweetly, gives me a book and asks me to read the first page of said book. It was such a compelling first page that I spent the rest of the weekend longing to read the damn book. Only time in my life I’ve ever fantasized about reading a book when having sex. Usually, it’s the other way around....

Try, try again. We’re going to Austin for the weekend! Girlfriend sticks a .32-caliber handgun down the back of her pants. She then puts a .45 under the seat. And a .38 in my luggage. And a shotgun in the gun rack. I spend the entire weekend thinking she was going to confuse the lube and the gun oil....

I’m just too stupid to give up. Drive-in movies being a thing of the past, I plan to recreate the thrill. I search all over town for old-fashioned popcorn boxes, waxed paper soda cups, and a copy of Creature from the Black Lagoon. I shave ice for the soda. I pop the popcorn a day in advance so that it will be perfectly stale. I borrow a friend’s TV/VCR combination. I pull the truck into the garage, set the TV/VCR on the hood, and lead girlfriend, blindfolded, into the garage. I get her settled in the truck, remove the blindfold, and she actually squeals with delight. We are having a marvelous time right up to the point where we bounced my friend’s TV onto the concrete garage floor....

This time, I am sure I will get it right. I plan a coffee date with someone I "met" as a result of the personal ads. While we are chatting, Dear Neighbor comes into the coffee shop dressed like Divine. She starts hitting me over the head with her purse and screaming at me to "think about the children." Too late, I realize that not only was I stupid enough to schedule this assignation on April 1, but also stupid enough to tell Dear Neighbor about it. The woman I was having coffee with flees. Dear Neighbor and I have a good laugh (I realize that friends are more important than coffee dates) and go to her house for dinner. Too late, she realizes that I do know it is April 1, right about the time she discovers that what she thought was her favorite dessert had been secretly replaced by a piece of frosted foam rubber....

Once more, with feeling. I take a date to Galveston. We are standing right next to a tugboat when it sounds its whistle. I, being conditioned by 20 years of work in petrochemical plants, hit the deck. One problem, I land squarely on my face, abrading my chin, chipping a tooth, and breaking my glasses. Great, now I can’t see, I can’t talk, and, worst of all, I can’t do anything that involves any pressure on my chin. I spend the rest of the weekend with an icebag on my face, leaving myself completely at the mercy of my date. Quell sexy. I am still trying to figure out how to recreate this accident without actually hurting myself....

So, dear reader, let me suggest to all of you that you look at all your "disaster dates" and try to find the humor there. This business of taking ourselves too seriously leads to much of the angst we experience in February. Try to remember that laughing at yourself is loving yourself. Happy Dates, Everyone!