Bad Parker, Bad Dater

Bad Parker was a dud. She picked me up 45 minutes late, explaining that she “hates Brentwood” and “always gets lost.”

We went out to see The King’s Speech which I thought was amazing. Really incredible performances and an engrossing story I didn’t want to end. But Bad Parker said it was “too confusing.”

“Why didn’t the other guy just marry that women and stay king?”

I explained that back then you couldn’t marry a divorced woman if you were king. I mentioned the King is the head of the Church of England. I asked if she remembered the whole story of Henry VIII.

Her response: “Oh, my God, why do you care about all this stuff?” Then she laughed/snorted, like I was the weird one.

We went back to my place and had sex, but I don’t think I’ll see her again. Just kidding. I wish. No, she dropped me off, I said see you never, and she drove off into the sunset. Or probably a fire hydrant.

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2 thoughts on “Bad Parker, Bad Dater”

  1. The pictures on the last two posts have been fantastic … maybe you should just go monk-ish and be a graphic designer.

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