My First Date

My First Date


As I dragged my inflatable doll in, I noticed there seemed to be an increase in chit-chat once I arrived with my date. She waited patiently in the “love-booths”, as I like to call them, amid a clatter of conversation while I paid for the tray-full of Chicken McNuggets. Her name was Dolly. She wore red lipstick. I like red lipstick.
She didn’t eat much. I guess she wanted to keep her figure…and what a figure it was! She filled out in all the right places... if you know what I mean. She had nice, NICE legs, curly white hair and a shiny forehead. Best of all, she wore red lipstick. How lucky can a man get?!!
She didn’t talk much. She was just interested in me…you don’t see that much now-days. I didn’t have much to talk about. All I could think of was how I’ve lived in my parents’ basement, and sometimes, the closet, for 33 years. How I made my furniture, bed and my friends out of LEGO’s. That, for fun, I would run into the wall until either I bled or I was knocked unconscious. If started to bleed it was 300 points; if I was knocked out it was 500 points. I asked her if she wanted to try it sometime and she seemed to be okay with it. I’m at 900,315 points. She’s got a lot of catching up to do.
She listened through my life story and, unlike anybody else I’ve ever talked to, she didn’t run away screaming. And when she stared at me with those plastic black eyes…I could barely contain myself. I was in love.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I convinced her that we shouldn’t go see some nasty PG movie and, instead, we should go back to my parents’ house and watch Teletubby videos.
I put the video in the VCR I bought with the neighbor kid’s lunch money and, when I turned around, Dolly looked like she was freezing. I snatched my LEGO blanket off my bed, and laid it over her. She still looked cold, so I suggested that we cuddle so she could get warm. Heh, heh, heh.
My hands were shaking, my knees were weak, and I could barely speak (hey, that rhymes!); but then, I saw that red lipstick. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I lunged and started making out with my big, beautiful, inflatable doll. We were rolling around on the couch and when we fell off the couch onto the floor, my knee landed on her and she popped. She was never the same since then. We split up and I’ve never been able to find a girl quite like her.

Morale of the story: Crap happens. Get over it and move on.