Getting to Third Date by Kelly McClymer

scurried out to the front steps of the dorm to await the unsuspecting guy who was going to be featured in my column next week. Anonymously, of course.
    He drove up right on time. A miracle. He waved and popped the passenger door of his very old, very noisy—not to mention vibrating—car. He didn’t get out, but he smiled at me and said, “Hey, you look great. Come on, get in.”
    My first inclination was to run back into the dorm, screaming. He couldn’t follow me, since the doors were always kept locked for security—when someone hadn’t propped them open with a textbook, of course. But then I’d have to explain my freak-out not only to Tyler, but to Sophia, too.
    So I got in and used the open window to get a grip and close the door, since it seemed to have lost its handle a long time ago. I thought, briefly, about all those horror movies where the girls get locked in a car with a psycho.
    But Todd wasn’t a psycho. He just didn’t have a lot of money to spend on a car right now since he was working in the dining hall making minimum wage. I knew from his Web page, and our last two dates, that he spent most of his money on music and Starbucks, the fuel that got him through the engineering classes he hated.
    Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Todd was a bad guy. For someone else. One day he’d make a great husband for a woman who was organized, driven, and tolerant. But as a boyfriend he was lacking most of my basic requirements. He didn’t listen well, he didn’t explain himself at all, and if he considered other people’s feelings, it was by accident.
    Given our history, I was not expecting to enjoy this date. More like I was hoping I’d survive it without going nuclear.
    The first time we hung out, it had been with a bunch of friends at the small bowling alley on campus. Tenpin bowling, which he had never done before. He’d always bowled candlestick, which I’d never heard of before (nor did I hear of it from him—hence the reason I know he doesn’t explain himself). “This isn’t bowling. It’s stupid.” Repeated over and over again during the night. I explained—we all explained—the game to him, yet he still got confused.
    But that was just the first date. He hadn’t spit on me or had a public meltdown, so he deserved a second chance. But not bowling. Definitely not bowling.
    He hadn’t argued when I suggested we try a movie the next time we hung out. I was thinking that he had to know what a movie was. In fact, I knew he did.
    Confession time: The Web is a wonderful tool for the dating girl. Turns out Todd had a blog. And a Web site (big plus) that showcased his interest in model trains (not a plus). In my defense, I’m not the only girl on campus who does this. Technology is meant to make our lives easier, after all. So for me, cute guy equals a little Google session.
    Besides, picking a movie can be tricky when you don’t know each other well. My snoop session made it easy. Todd was interested in trains. It so happened there was a movie playing about a runaway train. It was action, romance, and trains. What could go wrong? Let me count the ways.
    He picked me up late. Not his fault. Unless you count against him buying a car that only liked to start every other day. I didn’t. But I considered it when he pulled up in a wreck that was belching black smoke.
    And it went downhill from there. Believe me. Not only did he leave me to figure out his ancient malfunctioning car door handle for myself, he ate almost all of the popcorn before I could get my hand in edgewise.
    So anyone would understand why I wasn’t pumped for a third date. Once again I’d chosen a movie. Not a train theme, but a chick flick—hey, I wasn’t expecting to enjoy the guy, so why not enjoy the film?
    Â 
    What made it all 10 zillion times worse was that I had to do the asking because I was on a timetable