We were walking to dinner tonight and my friend is rounding up her week to me--she who has the history of the most mind-blowingly awful dates ever (my fave is where a coked up dude attempted to bid her adieu with a kiss, she turned away and he wound up LICKING the side of her face instead)--and she says "I went on the worst first date ever. All I need to tell you is this--because this really covers it. He picks me up, there's a baby seat in the back of the car, he's doused in CK and I think I'm going to puke it's so harsh. He told me I smelled great and I wondered how the fuck he could smell anything but himself, and then he says "I love cologne"--which was obvious. Next thing he does is put in a CD, and Steve Perry "Foolish Heart" starts playing, he throws his arm around me, starts driving, but is staring at me, and singing along "I need a love that grows.." It only got worse from there." One wonders if that is even possible.
Posted by jessica hopper at September 30, 2008 09:11 PM
God bless foolish hearts everywhere. Sing it, Steve.