To Save a Marriage, Split Up? An interesting WSJ piece.
Story Sent in by Jonelle:
I'm into dancing: contra, line, square, swing, you name it. I put it all over my profile, so when Dustin emailed me to tell me that he was also an avid dancer and wanted a partner, I agreed to meet him at a few dances.
He was indeed talented, and after we had met up at three dances, he asked me out on a proper date. I liked the idea of spending more time with him out of the dance hall, because neither of us had much of a chance to learn anything of substance about the other. He had a big family that I was curious about, and he was also in college, studying literature.
The night of our date, he told me to meet him at his house, and the plan was to walk to a restaurant in town. When I made it to his house, which was across the street from a small forest, he emerged wearing an outfit of all black: a black turtleneck under a black dress shirt and black jeans.
"You come from a funeral?" I asked him with a smile.
He said, "The funeral is the funeral of all of us." He then took me in his arms and we danced up and down his front walk. It was weird, but I went with it.
He then spun me, again, and again, and again. I tried to break away from his firmly gripping hand, and he let go of me at once, almost sending me to the ground.
Once I regained my footing, I asked him, "What's going on with you?"
He replied, "Wouldn't you like to do-si-do?"
I said, "Maybe after dinner. Is everything okay?"
"Do-si-do," he said, then repeated, "Do-si-do, do-si-do, do-si-do!" and twirled his way across the street and into the woods.
"Dustin!" I called after him, but he stumbled into the forest and didn't come back. I waited for him for a good 20 minutes on his porch. Aside from bumping into one of his brothers and having a brief chat, nothing else happened, and soon I gave up on him and went home.
The next day, a box of Girl Scout Cookies, you guessed it, the Do-Si-Do ones, were in my mailbox. The box was empty. Dustin and I didn't go out again after that.
I really want to know: Did you order those cookies and he ate them, or did he order and eat them and then put the box there? Just wondering.
ReplyDeleteYou're blaming him unfairly. CLEARLY he was high on the sweet delicious goodness of Girl Scout Cookies, and can't be held accountable. After all, who among us has not succumbed to the Bacchinalian power of Thin Mints or Samoans?
ReplyDeleteI just want to know, did this guy attempt to go out with you again, OP? I can't imagine someone putting on a performance like this and thinking "oh yeah, she's gonna love the shit out of this."
ReplyDeleteIf this was an attempt to call off the date, I know at some point I'm going to sound like a broken record, but why couldn't he just nut up and tell her that things weren't working out? This sort of behavior just perplexes me. Sure, sometimes a little childishness is charming, but what the fuck.
Maybe it's just drugs. I can kind of understand drugs.
ReplyDeleteThe story was assuming but I LOLed at "The box was empty." I mean I can just image the guy shoving a box of girl scout cookie into your mailbox, and suddenly thinking better of it. "She gets the box, not the cookies. Not the COOKIES. NO! Just the BOX!"
ReplyDeleteMadness.
This is what happens when you eat the whole bag of mushrooms before your date.
ReplyDeleteMy name is Dustin (for real!) and I am ashamed of my namesake.
ReplyDeleteIF YOUR NAME IS DUSTIN THEN WHY IS YOUR HANDLE "TACODAVE," DUSTIN?!?! I think I speak on behalf of us all when I say that WE FEEL BETRAYED AT YOUR LIES. AGNES's real name is AGNES. And Jared's is Jared. Hell, I'm both Claire the Armadillo AND Nikki, so I'M not a liar either. For shame, TACODUSTIN, for shame.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I'm with Pinkerton: drugs.
Oh, PS to the OP: during your chat w/his brother, did you mention how fuckin' weird fake-Dustin (not TacoDustin) was being? Did the brother offer you an insight?
ReplyDeleteTacoDustin just doesn't sound very cool, does it? Plus, it started out as a nom de pleur (translation: a phoenix claw) for an underground newspaper. I had to hide my secret identity.
ReplyDeleteBut now I am exposed!
@Clair I don't think Pinkerton is Pinkerton or that Baku is Baku (though she may be baka) and I'm certainly not ipdar. this is the internet and we are all made of lies!
ReplyDelete@Ipdar NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! The internet is my friend and would never lie to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *sobs hysterically at this shocking betrayal*
ReplyDeleteNewsflash..my name isn't really HOWIE!
ReplyDeleteDustinTaco sounds like another way to say 'whackin' off!"
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ReplyDeleteI shall legally change my name to theMediator!
ReplyDeleteOn topic: I also blame drugs.
@ lpdar: >:P
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ReplyDelete"DustinTaco" works better as a new way to say "jillin' off." Although if you have to dust off your taco, you should probably get out more or invest in a good dildo.
ReplyDeleteDang it... My name has been turned into a self-pleasuring joke?
ReplyDelete@Baku, oh come on, you know it was only a matter of time before someone made that joke. ;)
ReplyDeleteY'all are awesome! I couldn't sleep and I'm reading this at four in the morning. And I'm crying laughing. Thank you all. dustin taco. lol.
ReplyDelete