Nurse Neil

I randomly met Nurse Neil around a local university. Being super technologically savvy, we exchanged facebook information. This way, if Nurse Neil turned into Stalker Sam I could block him from my life forever. Safety first, right?

Being the graceful girl I am, I decided it was a good idea to sprain my toe about a week before the date. Not the pinky one, but the little guy next to it. Fortunately, I now knew a nurse that was determined for my bum toe to heal. God has a plan for even our bad times, right?

Movement wasn’t easy for me during these hard days of my life, so I agreed to go and see a movie. It was at a local movie theatre with a restaurant attached so we could conveniently eat, and then see a film of my choice. Hardly any walking + an escape from the evils of sitting on a couch all day with my toe elevated, = heavenly. God is good.

I hobbled around my house scrambling to get ready, taking breaks to rest my throbbing toe. I confirmed plans with him and then I heard him say the words, “You should just let me drive. You need to be resting that toe anyways. We can meet up and go together”.

Has anyone watched any horror movies lately? Or even just the news? Girls should ideally not ride in cars with boys they hardly know. But…I didn’t want to seem lame. So I packed my handy pepper spray and left, hoping my lipstick made me look fierce in a “I- will-kill-you-if-you-touch-me,-but-don’t-you-think-I-am-pretty?” kind of way. Between that and my whole process of getting ready and resting, I was running roughly 30 minutes late.

The ride to the theatre was decent. Well, sort of. He ate up all of MY dreams, opinions, thoughts, ect. I said something about not agreeing with people who blame society for where they are in life. I’ve had to work a lot harder than most people think for the things I have and where I am in life, so anyone who settles because they weren’t given any handouts, receive no pity from me. My darling date was so riled up from what I said that he fist pumped to it. I then proceeded to choke on my spit because it was a nicer alternative to laughing at how…Jersey Shore that was.

After that, I think anyone would completely understand why I stuck to safer topics, like the weather and Paris Hilton’s little mishap where she claims to have mistaken cocaine for gum.

We missed the movie he had reserved tickets for because of my lack of punctuality, and we had to stop by the ticket booth to change them to the next available time.

“Sir, are you an employee here? I have never seen you before, and these are the free employee tickets, only to be used by employees.” said the chubby ticket lady.

ACKWARD. I murmured that I was going to sit somewhere and rest my bum toe while he settles everything out. Don’t worry; I sat close enough to eavesdrop. Word on the street, according to what I heard, is that his roommate works there. Finally, he got things squared away, and I decided that I would not feel bad ordering a glass of wine with my dinner because he scored free movie tickets.

Since I had made us so late, we had to get our food and then eat it in the movie. Not a problem, right?

Well, Madison Green has what I like to call a chewing-food-in-a-way-that-resembles-a-cow-chewing-cud-phobia. Back in college, I had a roommate that would slurp and chew her oatmeal with every ounce of saliva in her mouth adding to those sounds a swishing gurgle type sound. It got to the point where I had to wear headphones and listen to music every morning after chapel because I couldn’t handle that noise.

All that to say, I don’t take chances like that with dates. Because things could get ugly and I could end up in the bathroom rocking back and forth saying, “I should have brought my car, I should have brought my car.” It is one thing to eat and talk at a restaurant and have the noises of other people talking and eating drown out the Satanic sound of chewing. It’s quite another to sit and eat chips and food, try not to chew or listen for chewing when the movie hits a silent part, pretend make-out scenes aren’t awkward because Nurse Neil would love to makeout and I would not, rest my sprained purple, blue, and black toe from where I can now feel my heartbeat, and wonder what the crap that freaky fist pump was about. I mean, does he do it on a regular basis?

The ride home is where it got more interesting than awkward. I keep my hands wrapped around myself because it’s comfortable and I would rather that than the other person trying to hold my hand, or cuddle me, to be frank. He kept asking if I was cold over and over and over and over, like a broken cd. Finally I said yes, just to change the topic.

Boy, did I get a change of topic. Everyone’s past is their past, and I don’t judge. I have my own myself. But half-truthing one’s past is weird. Either say, “This is me, bam! Or, I don’t want to discuss that, thank you.”

I learned Nurse Neil used to do PCP. According to him, he got hooked on it when a friend played a trick on him and laced it in a cig. I don’t know many drug addicts that waste expensive drugs on jokes that another person may not appreciate. Sounded a little sketch to me. Then he cried about how it ruined his life and he was kicked out of the macho pre-med program and has had to settle for life as a prissy male nurse. Maybe thats why he fist pumps.

Prior to me going out with him, we had spoken a few times before we went out through texting and the phone. I confessed to him that I am allergic to life itself and have to take allergy pills at night because life itself includes my comforter, sheets, and pillows.

Nurse Neil clears his throat and says “You know, being in the medical field, I know how important it is to take care of your allergies. I just want you to know I bought a hypoallergenic air filter, and some hypoallergenic dust mite proof pillows.”
I had no other choice at this point but to play dumb. “Oh, you have allergies too? Good for you. I’m always trying to toughen up my immune system. Unless I don’t feel like being snotty and stuffy…”

“Well, I just figured…” he hinted

“Uhhhh, I’m not really like that.” I stammered, mentally hitting myself in the head for not taking my own car.

And this is where my date reaches its best/worst part: “Don’t worry; I like you more than sex. I’m willing to wait.”

WHAT?!?!? Thankfully, I get out of his car at this point. I told him my mom was up waiting for me, and I needed to run. Then I gave him a friendly shrug before he could get any ideas, and shouted a “thanks” on my hobble run skip over to my car.

I suppose this date was strange because of my strange quirks and his odd delusional clingy comments. I’m not saying Nurse Neil if an awful person, he just smells a little deceitful, fist pumps when excited, and doesn’t like to waste time. Unless it is sex and he likes you, then he will wait. But he will have those hypoallergenic pillows waiting…just in case today is the lucky day. ;)

Shortly after this, I was deleted from his facebook friends and then re-requested a week later. I never responded because the awkwardness from that last date throbbed worse than my toe.