The date that will probably end with 84 years of bad luck.

"I know," my prospective date was saying. "Let's go on a road trip!"

We'd spent an hour on the phone and seemed to be getting along.

"I need to get a special shelves but it's only at a Walmart in Norfolk, I just checked," he said. "Let's go tomorrow."

"I can't go tomorrow," I said. "I won't be free until... I dunno, maybe next weekend?"

"Oh, alright." He sighed disappointedly.

A day passes and he emails me. We're still in the getting-to-know-you stage. I mean, it's been 24 hours but I need at LEAST one more day before my serial killer assessment test results come back.

"What kind of car do you have?"

I reply, confused, "an older sedan, why?"

"Oh because I was wondering if they would fit. Do the seats fold down? They're huge. I don't have a car so we'll have to take yours."

Wait, you're not pushing to spend 6 hours with me because of my awesome & captivating personality but because I happen to have wheels??

I balk. He calls. "I found a backup plan. There are these other reflective glass shelves at a Walmart near you. Can you pick them up for me when you get a chance? I need twelve."

Do you have ANY IDEA how much of a pain in the ass it is to set FOOT into an Walmart? And THAT MANY of those monsters, will they even fit into my back seat or will I just get 84 years of terrible luck for trying??

I hate dating.