On Wednesday’s scribble, I mentioned that a girl I had gone out with in the past named Angela had called me and asked if I could take her out for a date on Saturday night (if you missed it, you can read about my history with her right HERE).

I wasn’t sure if I was going to take her out… okay, so I already KNEW I was probably going to agree to do so.  I didn’t have much confidence that she’d have a good time with me (especially since most of my dates end with the girl either getting sick, calling a cab, or jet-setting off with some other guy she meets while we’re out)…

…BUT…

That was BEFORE my night out with the #1 ladies man in the world, Archbishop Don “Magic” Juan!

Thanks to an evening filled with lessons, graphs, and parables on the inner-workings of women (as well as some hands-on/interactive activities which you can read about HERE), I was able to up my confidence and get WAY more comfortable around the opposite sex…

Okay – so I got tongue tied during my interactions and passed out after having a sip (i.e. a drop) of “Magic” Juan’s holy water. 

Still, I figured at least SOME of what he taught me had to have stuck.  I decided to accept Angela’s invitation for me to take her out.  She told me to let her know where we’d be going and how much it costs, and I did.  When I told her I’d be taking her to White Castle for some “royalty-approved” hamburgers, she responded back in the most loving way she could:

“Geez, Non Juan, that’s not very expensive!  I don’t know if I can go out with you after all…”

I listed a few more places – Applebees, Olive Garden, El Pollo Loco – but Angela insisted that none of them cost a lot of money, and, therefore, were not of high quality.

Finally, I mentioned a restaurant that… well, it’s so fancy that the name of it is actually a combination of three different languages and unpronounceable.  Heck, it’s so expensive, you have to actually PAY the hostess just to find a table for you!  Amazingly, Angela agreed to go – I was so happy!

As promised, she picked me up from my apartment at 7 and drove me to the restaurant.  I was hoping to have some stimulating conversation with her in the car… but it was kind of hard to hear her, seeing as she had made me sit in the trunk (something about there not being enough room for both me AND the oxygen she needed to breath inside the car seating area). 

It didn’t matter, though – once we got seated at the restaurant, I made SURE we talked about… um, well… according to Don “Magic” Juan, women LOVE talking about themselves, so I tried to do my best to ask her questions that would make her want to talk. Questions like:

• “So, tell me about that brown blemish you have on your cheek?”
• “What guys did you date that dumped you and made you available for tonight?”
• “By paying for this date, does it mean I get to make out with you?”
• “What is your favorite color mold?”
• “Have your teeth always been that yellow?”

Despite my wonderful questions, though, she seemed more angry at me than willing to talk.  She said something about being ready to leave if it weren’t for the fact that I was paying.  Guess that means it’s not true what they say – for me, money CAN buy me happiness!

As for our meals: she ordered the lobster/duck/caviar combo plate, and I.. well, after seeing how much her meal cost, I had just enough money left over for a glass of tap water with frozen ice – and even THAT set me back by $21! 

It’s okay, though – I figured if she saw how much I was willing to pay, she’d be all like: “Oh Non Juan! You’re the BOMB!  After dinner, we are definitely going somewhere to make out!”

Unfortunately, it didn’t quite happen like that.  While our waiter was dropping off our food… well, I don’t know what was happening, ’cause I started eating my food as soon as he put the plate down in front of me.  I couldn’t hear much while I was chewing my food (which I do with my mouth open so I won’t pass out, like that one time at Denny’s where… um, okay, that’s another story), but Angela and the waiter seemed to be getting along great – she was laughing, he was pulling on her hair and making “gooey-eyes” at her – all very innocent.

I ate so fast that I got a little bit of a stomach ache, and told Angela I’d be gong to the bathroom.  When I got back to our table, I noticed two things: the check was there… and Angela was not!

“Oh no,” I thought to myself, “Angela’s been kidnapped! I have to find her!” 

I ran around the restaurant, yelling her name and running under tables hoping to find her.  I think a few of the women at these tables were upset at me, partially for interrupting their dinners and partially for looking up their dresses for my dear Angela (side note: who knew so many women wore granny panties on dates??).  After no luck searching (and quite a few smacks to the face), I went back to my table, opened up the check book, and found a note from Angela that said:

“Sorry Non Juan – I didn’t have enough money to tip the waiter, so I decided to let him take me home and let him ‘tip’ me, if you know what I mean. TTYL, lame-o!”

Aww, how sweet!  She felt so bad for this waiter that she’s going to let HIM pay her money?? That’s why I’ve always liked her in the first place - she’s so nice and giving!  I’ll be she let him give her all the tip he wanted to, too!

As for me… well, I didn’t have enough to pay for her entire meal (a trio combo like the one she ordered is NOT cheap), so I had to stay at the restaurant and wash dishes, clean up the food pantry, and other unspeakable things that I’m not allowed to talk about until I get a new lawyer.

Such a great date… glad to see those tips from Don “Magic” Juan are starting to pay off!

-Non Juan

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