Pineapple Boy

One Word: WOW + Two Words: Online Dating = Three Words: NEVER. EVER. AGAIN.

Dating. Definition according to me: 1. a form of courtship between two individuals resulting in forced awkward situations, 2. subjecting oneself to absurd lunacy.

Observe! Pictorial evidence! This comedic nightmare come to life is actually pretty hilarious — now. Though, at the time, I was really freaked out.

Pineapple Boy and I went out for coffee first, that went well, so we went to dinner, once. He seemed like the quintessential nice guy. No red flags. But I came down with something the day before the 3rd date and felt miserable. I neglected to answer my phone or return any texts for 24 hours. Little did I know, he had blown up my phone with texts and voicemails. 22 missed calls, 7 voicemails, and I stopped counting the texts after a dozen. It was on silent, I had no idea, and was too sick to care. I took my temperature one more time, 103.5° wwwooonnnddddeeerrrrrful. I replied to a comment on FaceBook about being sick. Approx. 45 mins later, this guy shows up at my place, unannounced. I literally rolled off the couch in my crinkled polka dot pjs, disheveled to the nines with a misbuttoned top, no makeup, hair in some kind of crazy side ponytail that wasn’t really a ponytail anymore…looked as awful as I felt.

disheveled to the nines…

I open the door expecting a girlfriend bringing over soup and instead he says, Hey, I heard you were sick. You poor thing! I was going to bring you flowers but then I thought — f*** flowers you need a pineapple! He presented it to be from behind his back. Yes, I’m serious! You can’t make this stuff up! I was mortified! I stood there for a few seconds in shock, then said, How? Uh, you need to leave. I tucked the pineapple in the crook of my arm and pointed towards the parking lot. Thank you. Thank you for the pineapple, but please leave. He walked in, right past me. But why? I’m here to take care of you. My feverish brain was spinning trying figure out how in the world this guy knew where I lived! I was so careful, obviously, not careful enough.

Still holding my pineapple, I shuffled back to the couch, and start chastising myself for being some kind of lightning rod for weirdos, why do I always… My inner monologue was interrupted when I looked over. OH! You’ve got to be freakin kidding me! He had my purple dishwashing gloves on, walking around using a pair of tongs to pick up discarded Kleenexes on the floor. Then, he liberally sprayed Lysol on the tongs. He looks over at me with a smug smile. What? What? You look mad. Damn, I should have got flowers, they’re more cheerful. No, I’m not mad. That’s not the word. It’s not that, it’s just um… How did you even know I was sick? How did you even know where I live? I ask incredulously. Because you mentioned it on FaceBook and I followed you last time but only so I could surprise you with something later on. Mmm hmm, okay. I say and immediately think: Creeper Alert, Creeper Alert — RED FLAG on the play!

He was going to town with the tongs and lysol then gathered up my medicine to “make a convenient home base on the counter.” He acted like everything was completely normal. Meanwhile, I’m in the Fever Twilight Zone staring at him as if he were a male version of Poppins. FINALLY! After the longest 10 mins of my life, I’m rescued by my girlfriend, Shelly with soup in hand, and a perplexed look on her face. Hey, y’all what’s going on? She shot me a what in the hell is going on look and saw me clutching the pineapple. He says, We’ve got this under control now. I brought her a pineapple, but thanks for the soup.

I am running over a 103° fever, I’ve got a damned pineapple on my couch, and this other fruitcake…

OK. NO. I say begrudgingly, trying to get off the couch. I wave my index finger around —

First of all, “We’ve?” I say with air quotes, walking towards them both. There’s no WE, so there can be no “We’ve got this under control…’ YOU. Pointing right at him. For Heaven’s sake, STOP spraying the lysol, put my tongs down, and take off my gloves! I am running over a 103° fever, I’ve got a damned pineapple on my couch, and this other fruitcake… I don’t need to be running interference on — on whatever the hell this is! So, as I previously stated, Please. Leave. Get out. Go. Also, just so we are crystal clear, there will not be any future dates. I go to shut the door and he says, FINE. Can I get my pineapple back? I did not utter a word, I just shut the door.

Shelly could NOT stop laughing to save her life. What in the world…who does that? And then he asked for it back?! BAHAHAHA Wow! At the time, I was the furthest thing from amused. Laugh it up, sister, laugh it up! Girl, come on. Are you done? Can I have my soup now?