“Wait, let’s finish two more songs, and then let’s go,” Arra told us.
The weather had not been cooperative the entire evening— rainy with a chance of slipping on the pavement. So, cute as it was to see our muse sprinting from the car to find shelter from the downpour—in skirt and heels, no less—a broken ankle could have really put a damper on things.
For her to tell us that she wanted to stay for two more songs was sufficient indication that she was having a good time. Dare we say: This little night out with a former 100% Hottie had unfolded pretty well.
And with that, we were able to cross out “date an FHM babe” off our bucket list. And we had earned it, if we may say so ourselves.
Like most dates, we were suffering from a case of the jitters. “What to talk about?” “Am I going to bore her?” “Will she notice that I’m wearing a pair of mismatched socks?” Any man who’s ever been on a first date should be familiar with these questions. In fact, we had gamely expected it, but that didn’t always mean that things would be easier. The fact that our partner for the night was a model and a DJ only made it worse. It was as if we had swallowed a frog down our throats, and now it’s happily chasing after the butterflies in our stomach.
So what’s the solution? Find a distraction.
Think of videogames. Think of Jeremy Lin destroying opposing teams. Think of shooting zombies down. Turn up the volume and listen to John Cena’s entrance music. And then, fucking punch something. Well, actually, don’t, because it’s going to be hard to open doors for her with a fractured wrist. The point is, just stop worrying. Before you know it, you’re sitting across her in a restaurant, trying not to say anything stupid.
Arra had instructed us to pick her up after her performance at a car show. She had been spinning subwoofer-killing RnB hits for about three hours when we finally arrived. “Kumain ka na?” was one of the first questions we asked—which was hella stupid. We were going on a dinner date.
NEXT: Arra loves ox brain