Mr. Slick - Not!

So there I was...on a hot date! I was nineteen years old and was on a date with a girl from college. Yes...she had a name - I just don't recall what it was. Our date consisted of hanging out at my dad and step-mom's home. We'd have dinner with them and would swim in their pool. I know that the idea of taking someone home to meet the parents relatively soon in the relationship, i.e. on our first date, sounds perilous to a relationship, but when you're on a limited budget, it can be very appealling. Maybe it was the proverbial nail-in-the-coffin...that was our only date. Of course, that could have been on account of my not-so-slick-moves at the beginning of the date.

I drove over to her house, an hour away, to pick her up and on the way to my dad's house, stopped at an incredible bakery to get desert. This young lady was very attractive and I was very excited (read as: akwardly nervous). We went into the bakery, I bought the desert and escorted her out to the car whilst holding the cheesecake. I placed the cheesecake on top of the car at the passenger side of the car so that I could open the car door for her. Now I know what you're thinking...no, I did not leave it on top of the car. I shut her door, grabbed the cheese cake, opened the passenger side back door, placed the cake on the floorboard so it wouldn't slide of the seat - hey, I was thinking here! I then closed the back passenger door, walked around the back of the car, opened the driver's side car door, slid inside, and closed the door.

And while it was the driver's side door...it was the wrong one. I was sitting in the back seat.

On the bright side...I had made it to the back seat on our first date - sorta.

PS Mrs Pheasantly finds this story very, very funny.