We’ve all gone on dates with those alarmingly eager and polite Don Quixotes who do everything ‘right’ throughout your date. A few boxes checked and we somehow delude ourselves into believing we’ve hit some mythical dating jackpot; and just when you’re about to ring the bell and cash your prize, things go awry.
It all makes for a very sensual dining experience, but insults the hell out of your date when your answer to his very serious question is *munch munch*. David Loughran—always funny and occasionally poignant—may carry his carefree attitude like a gunslinger, but is really a softie on the inside. Call for ContributionsThis issue of New Slang is about the maintenance of images, whether these are images of people, places, or ideas.
Guy picks you up from your place, helps you to your seat like the prim beauty that you are, pays the check even before the meal has started, laughs at your jokes almost excessively, shows you pictures of his pet iguana (or some similarly slimy, but admittedly cute creature), then drives you home and says good night with just the riiight amount of intimacy.
You somehow survive the first date unscathed, but the guy just can’t stop sending you messages soon after, telling you about his…feelings! Ultimately, there are dates that DO go well – the ones where we get a good night’s sleep after, and have nothing to complain about in the morning.
They’re the ones we try to shun from memory, but ultimately remain to remind us that we have seen better days. I recall one guy, cute as hell and already a few years my senior, who still had retainers on.

Well, for some of us it’s all about making an instant connection, whether it is in our agreement with his politics, life goals, or hair products. After taking my time to chew and swallow I say “Whut?” to ruin the already immaculate moment.
I usually have gotten away with it for the most part, but it’s come to bite me up the arse on more than one occasion. On most days, David daydreams and wonders how far he can go in life doing things ‘just for kicks’.
What dummies weren’t taught was that the lines between the good and bad are so badly blurred, one can’t possibly go through life without ping-ponging between the two. He sends you a year’s supply of oranges when you get the sniffles, and befriends your closest buds on Facebook without your knowing. They know what you should be ordering for dessert, what you should be doing next Friday (hanging out with them, of course!); they even knew what you should be studying for your Masters degree. Remember that d-bag who couldn’t introduce you to the friends you bumped into on your date because he forgot your name (my name’s Biblical, damn it!)? I figured it wasn’t so bad that he cared about his overbite, so I charged this fact to good oral hygiene.
The first date usually plays out like a screening interview, with us checking little boxes in our head.

So much, that when a plate sizzles in front of me, I forget my date, and become dangerously unaware of myself in public.
His latest attempt at finding a path to lead him out of the middle of things is his stint as Deputy Exhibition Manager for an art gallery here in Manila – a job which he really, really enjoys. But if you’re sitting by your lonesome, reading this, nodding your head in agreement (I sure hope so), then maybe, just maybe, that date didn’t go so well after all. It all went downhill when, instead of tucking the retainer inside his pocket, he hid it inside folds of tissue paper and conveniently placed it beside his salad fork. Picture the flaps of tissue rising, like how yeast makes bread rise, slowly giving me a taunting view to the retainer’s pink, tongue-like semblance. I’ve gone on dates where, halfway through dindin, a little voice inside my head monologues, “Hmm.
I hear how the steak gives that squishy sound when it meets the knife, or how the weight of my fork produces crunch against the Mesclun greens of my salad.
But I dream of that perfect awkward date – when he and I are both ludicrously awkward, as if we both speak that forbidden language of Awkward, so awkward stops being awkward and things actually start to make sense.

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Comments to «How to make out with a guy with braces»

  1. Sevsen_Severem writes:
    Ugly woman with a grudge I can the explanation guys are.
  2. MAMBO writes:
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  3. X_U_L_I_Q_A_N writes:
    Week in, week out and believed I got it sussed till modern day females face particular.