The Chinese Dumplings Episode, illuminated.

Recent comments on the four Disastrous Dates that occurred prior to this blog's existence have necessitated a more thorough explanation of the escape strategy from my awful date with Chinese Dumplings Guy. My vague allusions to my friends on a camping trip were apparently not entertaining enough -- but then again, I have to save these juicy details for additional posts, as my life, romantic and otherwise, is often not as exciting as this blog would suggest. At any rate, this story is a perfect example of how chastity isn't the only moral quandary of a Jesus-Freak-on-a-date.

After I had decided that Mr. Dumplings had copped his last feel for the evening, I took advantage of his trip to the bathroom (the purpose of which I certainly don't want to imagine) to call my best friend who was also my roommate at the time. I needed an immediate escape plan -- one that I had forfeited hours earlier when she made the planned "just in case" phone call, and I quickly assured her that all was fine, since no Funny Business had yet started at that point in the evening. I kept her on the phone when Dumplings emerged from the bathroom, in a perfect "Oh no, emergency!" pose, from which I informed him that she had broken her leg after falling over a log in the woods in a drunken revelry, and I needed to leave right away.

Understandably, he seemed to think I was pulling his leg [pun intended]. But instead of gracefully accepting defeat, he proceeded to argue against the merits of accompanying my best friend and roommate to the hospital after a major limb fracture. "She has people there with her; why do you need to go?" He even attempted to direct me suggestively to his bedroom. His obtuseness erased the shame I felt in lying to him. Of course I'm making all of this up, I thought, but who is he to assume that? He doesn't know me at all. How dare he suggest that I leave my friend to the assistance of others (who are, of course, most likely drunk themselves) while I'm not-enjoying myself elsewhere? And even if he knows this is all a scam, can't he just take a HINT?

The next day, when I was home safe and sound, Dumplings called me to inquire after my friend's leg. I unwisely said that she was fine, at home and resting; he immediately spotted my gaffe and asked why she was not in a hospital in traction. Sighing with exhaustion at the tale I was still spinning, I said that she had only suffered a stress fracture, as she was an avid runner. (In all respect and love to her, none of that could be further from the truth.)

Yet Dumplings would not be discouraged. He simply asked whether my friend had a boyfriend to take care of her.