Di's question: Worst Date Ever

So I promised I would answer any and all questions thrown my way, and Di wants to hear about my worst date.

Now, I've had a lot of bad dates, so at first I thought it would be hard to pick.  But as I sifted through the old memory banks, a clear winner stood out.

It was Spring 2004 and I was on my way to Tri Delt formal. 

Here's a little bit of back story: I used to have a lot of anxiety about dating -- full blown panic attacks when presented with the idea of having to spend an evening with a boy on a date. It wasn't that I was scared of boys -- I had a lot of guy friends and a handful of crushes.  It was the actual act of going on a date that caused cold sweats and hyperventilating. 

I have my suspicions about the cause of this ailment, but that's a story for another day.  Suffice it to say, I hated dating in high school, and vaguely despised it my freshman and sophomore years of college, which is when the panic attacks seemed to ebb.

Which brings us back to formal, the dance party a sorority throws for its members every semester.  Having forced myself to find a date in the past, I decided to just go stag to this one.  The best part of a sorority formal is dressing up and dancing with all your sorority sisters anyway, and there were more than a few girls who hadn't bothered to get dates either.

I was riding to formal with my cousin Abby when I got a call from Sadie, a fellow Tri Delt.  She and Candice were bringing their boyfriends of the moment, two Sigma Chis, and apparently these fellas had a super cool friend, did I want him to come along?

I should have known better.  When a boy wants an invite so bad he'll go with a stranger, that's a boy you don't want to have to spend an evening with.  But I'm bad at saying no, and Sadie sounded oddly enthusiastic (which I later discovered was mostly about her boyfriend giving her the evil eye), so I said, "Sure, whatever."

I'll be honest -- did a teeny part of me hope this random guy was actually super fun and cute? Sure did.

Abby and I arrived at formal and, Sadie, Candice, and boy entourage nowhere to be found, settled into a table with empty seats for dinner. 

About an hour passed, and between the fabulous dinner conversation and the worst DJ in the world spinning tunes (I will never think of the "Pina Colada" song in the same way), I kind of forgot I was supposed to have a date coming.

The next thing I knew, I looked up, and there was a tearful Sadie standing in the doorway of the dance hall, arguing with Candice.

Sadie wasn't much of a crier, so I hurried over to find out what was wrong -- and oh by the way, why are you guys 90 minutes late?

Why, because our dates stopped to deal some drugs on the way, my dears.

Hence the argument.  Sadie was of the opinion that they should have ditched the boys once their Avon Barksdale-style ambitions were revealed; Candice was of the opinion that what's done is done, and being an accessory to drug dealing shouldn't stand in the way of a good time.  Since Candice was driving, so she won that argument.

Before I could react to that information, the two Sigma Chis and their friend stepped out of the restroom (the place they would go one to spend the majority of the evening), looking high as kites.

And that is the story of how I ended up at the Provo Country Club, on a date with a drug dealer.