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Small talk with Mr. Right

I wanted to share this for your schadenfreudistic (it's a word now) pleasure and because I couldn't do it justice on twitter.

I let myself be talked in to going on a blind date tonight for reasons that are too long/banal to discuss, but ordinarily this is not something I would ever agree to. In the middle of a painfully awkward dinner, this happened.


Him: So do you do, you know, cankles?

Me: Excuse me?


Him: You know….cankles.

Me: ……………….

[Ed. note: I do not have cankles]

Him: YOU KNOW….*makes squeezing motion with fists like milking a cow*

Me: *puppy head tilt*

Him: To keep everything….tight.

Me: Oh my fucking god, do you mean kegels?

Him: *oblivious and just excited that we've finally understood each other* YES! KEGELS! So do you?


At the moment when a strange man, who has no chance whatsoever of getting near it, asks me about my vagina, the evening is over. However, I'm honestly not sure how long I stared at him before I could move again, because I had reached critical mass with the outrage and hilarity such that a fuse blew and I couldn't make words. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth I would just issue a scream of laughter and flip the table on him (and, I mean, there was good wine on it).


It was long enough that by the time the waiter came and left he had caught on enough to realize there was something wrong. In an attempt to salvage the situation, he kind of shifted around a lot like he had terrible hemorrhoids and mumbled, "It's ok if you don't." OH THANKS IS MY FACTORY-ISSUE VAGINA REALLY OKAY.

I asked he hadn't been successful with his fleshlight increasing length as advertised, swigged my wine and left.


I gotta tell you, I'm kind of relieved to be home early.

Any miserable blind date stories as long as I'm already laughing?

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