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.

Bad Parker

Last night I went down to the garage to get my car to leave work and I noticed the car next to me was parked like an idiot.

You know the type, some asshole who’s too busy to line it up, so he just leaves it diagonally across the space. I literally couldn’t open my door.

So I go to leave a note. Like, “Nice parking job, asshole.” That counts as talking to strangers, right? The only problem is, as soon as I put it on the windshield, the driver shows up! And it’s not some Jersey Shore asshole, it’s a cute girl.

“You’re leaving me a note because I parked like a moron, right?”

I quickly pulled the note off her windshield and tucked it in my pocket. “No. Well, yes. It’s just, I can’t get into my car.”

She apologized. Seems she was in a daze this morning because someone stole her phone and she was trying to remember all the data they have access to now. I asked her if she could do a remote wipe and she said she didn’t download that app.

Anyway, long story short, we’re going out Friday night. She felt bad about blocking me in (I exaggerated how long I’d been waiting) but only agreed to go out on the condition that I show her what I wrote in the note.

I showed it to her and she laughed. (The note said, “Fuck you, you fucking inconsiderate fuck. Get some fucking parking lessons.”)

“I didn’t think I’d run into the owner.”

“Obviously,” she replied. She said she was impressed by how many “fucks” I’d worked into the note. And that I had rage issues. And that she’d pick me up at 7:00.