Sweat baby sweat

Sunday morning I woke up to a text reminding me that I had a date later in the afternoon. A hiking date, which in theory sounds cute, awe, we will hike out down to the river and it will be all so cute and romantic. In my head this is excellent, something picture perfect and out of a movie and we know how much I love anything that reminds me of a romantic movie scene. Also I thought this would be a good way to get over Melvin, who recently entered and exited my life for the millionth time in 6 months, I’ve seriously developed an eye twitch from the stress that man causes me.

So I wake up kind of pumped for my hiking date, until I realize I do not have a hiking outfit and the more concerning fact, I have never really gone hiking.  Once when I was 12, but uh, I was a hefty 12 year old and it was probably a traumatic experience because it involved moving so I never really did it again. Also after a conversation with Dana, she informs me that fake eye lashes are not accepted when you go on a hiking date and I probably shouldn’t waste my time curling my hair. I am in panic mode; usually I like to ease guys into the process of seeing “natural” Justine. I like to charm them with my amazing personality so when I go from Beyonce to Susan Boyle it’s not as big of deal, because they are swooned with my sense of humor and loveliness.

So I go on this date, without hair extensions or falsies and it is at this time that I decided that I am more of a mini golf, dinner and drinks kind of date. Why you ask? Because let me tell you the main difference between movies and real life. Sweat. That’s it. You don’t get romantic moments when the two of you are so sweaty from the sun beating down on you and you are crawling over shrubs like it’s the Hunger Games.  There isn’t a sexy way to unpeel your shirt from your back, there isn’t a romantic way to look into each other eyes when you have beads of sweat dripping into them off your forehead, and I sure as hell don’t want you to touch me because the bugs are touching me enough and I’d probably catch you in the chin with one of my arms flailing that’s trying to hit the bug that just bit me on the arm.

But we finally made it down to the river; I take one step into the water, and BAM! Legs go over my head, arms reaching to grab something, anything, but there is nothing for me to stable myself and I ever so gracefully biff it into the water, right on my ass. Yep. I am the most graceful create to walk the earth. He is busy laughing at me so I stand up take one more step and fall again. I give up. Dating is not my forte. Needless to say, I doubt there will be a second date.