Drew's Stand-Up Special: A First Date Disasterpiece
It was an embarrassing first date for none other than our very own, perpetually optimistic (and apparently "packing" based on your Instagram comments), Drew.
Now, Drew's a great guy, always ready with a helping hand, a goofy grin, and alleged dangling horse dong. But during a recent group dinner, he ventured out of his comfort zone and revealed his embarrassing first date disaster.
He was in his early 20s. He scored a date, A real, live, honest-to-goodness date.
The chosen battlefield for this romantic rendezvous? A comedy club. Specifically, a comedy club on open mic night. Now, I love a good laugh as much as the next gossipmonger, but open mic night is a gamble. You risk the joker calling on you in the crowd and putting your night in the spotlight at the expense of your dignity. (I should note that it wasn't with the intent for either of the parties to get on stage and crack wise. It was just, "Hey, why don't we go there?")
The date started well enough, according to Drew. Nervous small talk, shared appetizers (onion rings, a bold choice for pre-kissing protocol), and genuine laughter during the aspiring comedians' sets. Things were looking up! Drew was feeling confident, his date was smiling and the awkward-silence crickets were mercifully quiet -- or at least drowned out by surrounding laughter.
Then, the host, a man whose jokes were as stale as the popcorn they were selling, announced the freestyle -- or audience participation -- portion of the evening. "Anyone brave enough to grace the stage and tickle our funny bones?" he bellowed into the microphone.
And here's where our story takes a sharp turn into the abyss. Get your own popcorn for this.
Fueled by a couple of pre-show beers and a surge of misplaced confidence, Drew raised his hand. Yes, our Drew. The Drew who once tried to explain Bitcoin to our boss using interpretive dance.
"I've got some material!" he declared, perhaps a little too loudly.
His date flashed a nervous, though encouraging smile.
Drew bounded onto the stage, grabbed the microphone like he was holding a winning lottery ticket, and launched into his routine. Now, I wasn't there, but on his own admission, Drew decided to make his date the subject of his jokes.
Yes, you read that right. He chose to dissect his first date, in front of his date, on a stage, in a room full of strangers.
Apparently, his opening line was something along the lines of, "So, I'm on a date tonight, and let me tell you, that one (points) - eats like a horse. I'm only up here to get donations to pay for the goddamn bill!"
The silence, I'm told, was thicker than the club's questionable air quality.
He then proceeded to make a series of "observations" about his date, each one more cringe-inducing than the last. He joked about the food order (apparently, a salad…with dressing... at a comedy club), the laugh (described as "sounding like a seal being strangled"), and even shoes (allegedly, they were "sensible").
Now, I'm no relationship guru, but I'm pretty sure publicly mocking your date isn't exactly the path to romantic bliss.
The audience, initially stunned into silence, began to shift uncomfortably. A few brave souls chuckled out of pity, but most just stared at Drew with a mixture of horror and morbid curiosity. All eyes went from Drew on the stage to the darkened audience and the table with one empty seat and... maybe two very soon?
Even in the dark, the roastee's roasted red face was noticeable -- a shade of red usually reserved for stop signs and emergency vehicles. In the center: a weak smile and eyes screaming, "Get me out of here!"
Drew, oblivious to the carnage he was causing, continued his "set," digging himself deeper and deeper into the comedic grave. He even attempted a bit about how his soon-to-be-former date "talked too much" and "asked too many questions."
The grand finale, the pièce de résistance of this comedic catastrophe? Drew ended his set by looking directly at his stop sign in the audience and asked, "So, am I getting laid tonight or what?"
The silence that followed was so profound, you could hear a pin drop. Or, more likely, you could hear any sense of dignity leaving the room.
Drew, finally feeling the shift in the room's atmosphere, stammered a thank you and scurried off stage, beaming with what he clearly thought was comedic triumph.
He returned to the table to find he was, indeed, flying solo. Vanished. Poof! Like a badly executed magic trick.
The chair was empty, the salad untouched and the check waiting to be paid.
Drew, bless his obliviously optimistic heart, actually looked around, perplexed. "In the bathroom?" he reportedly said to the empty space.
Newsflash, Drew: not a bathroom run. An escape. A freedom run.
So, what's the moral of the story, folks? Besides the obvious "don't publicly roast your date even before knowing their last name," it's this: sometimes, the best jokes are the ones you keep to yourself. And maybe, just maybe, onion rings aren't the best first date snack.
As for Drew, he's proven that no matter how hung you are, it doesn't guarantee a second date... or even getting laid on the first.
(He later countered the experience by saying the date "just wasn't his type," but we all know the truth.)