My worst date ever was with a guy, Joe, who offered me a coupon to pay for my movie ticket. Look on the bright side, I remember consoling myself, at least he's springing for it--sort of.
The date had been arranged by a mutual friend--enemy?--who insisted we had a lot in common. As long as you can ignore the pants, she said.
The pants-jeans in a style called painter-involved suspenders and a bib. There was no ignoring them. All my pants are like this, chirped Joe cheerfully. I really love the seven pockets!
Despite the extra storage, I noticed he found it necessary to strap on an orange vinyl fanny pack. It was from this that he withdrew the movie coupons and offered them both to me as we waited in line. Just go up and get both tickets, he said.
When I got up to the ticket booth I was told the coupons were invalid for that time of day or for that movie or for one reason or another-aren't they always?-and, because Joe was making such a show of being oblivious-clearing his throat, bending over to tie his shoe, looking everywhere but at me--it was clear to me I would have to dig out some cash to pay for our tickets.
Too bad about the coupons, he said, as we walked to our theatre seats. But, actually, I'll be needing those back for later.