Does Your Mother Know You’re in a Bar?

Last January, I made the resolution to get out there and snag myself a boyfriend. Since January is freezing, I decided this would best be done on my couch with the help of online dating. I signed on to JDate with hope and was excited to see my options… 5’3, 5’5, and 5’nothing. Has no one heard of growth hormones? I am 5’2, so the height bar isn’t exactly high. Just as I was trying to convince myself that I could wear flat shoes or find a hole to stand in, an instant message ran across my screen. Being the savvy shopper that I am, I went to check and see what size he came in. 5’6. Ok, I guess he can be tried on. We chatted and after about 20 minutes decided to meet for a drink the following evening.

I got to the bar a little early. After I downed my first glass of red, I saw a tiny man enter. Hmm, his face looked familiar, but he was so short there’s no way it could be Sam. Surely this had to be a child in a Sam mask. Before I could ask if his mother knew he was in a bar, he said, “Hey Jen, its Sam.” I deserve an Oscar for not letting my disappointment show. When he shook my hand, my appendage felt like one belonging to a giant. My tiny hand covered his and I couldn’t help but smile. Luckily, I held the fit of laughter in, though again, Oscar worthy.

The evening was pleasant, but if his hands were that small… well you get the point. I usually end up dating liars, but I like to be surprised. If someone is so dumb that they lie about something I am going to indefinitely find out, what other secrets would I uncover? I was not about to wait and find out. I am not sure how he thought I was into him; I can only assume his ego was a little bigger than he was. When he tried to kiss me goodbye, I grabbed his tiny hand and shook it one last time. I said I’d call him, but I’m not sure why. I was bigger than him. End of story.

Finally, I escaped into the first cab I could find and called my mother to share the deets. When I arrived at my apartment, I made a shocking discovery. My wallet was gone. Now most people would think they were robbed, but I know better. My wallet goes “missing” about three times a year, always my fault. The most upsetting part about this was that I would have to call Mr. Tiny to ask if he happened to see it. He didn’t, but that boy was very excited to see me again when I went back to the bar to locate my belongings. I wonder if he knew this was not considered a second date. My vote goes to no.

I found my wallet in the exact location he tried to kiss me, I guess I wasn’t the only one to jump ship.

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