The Wrong Car

Story Sent in by Dan:

Eric had picked out a city restaurant for our first date that by his own admission was "impossible to find," so he recommended that we meet in a central location (a parking lot) and go in his vehicle from there.

The day of our date, there was a torrential downpour, and even the simple act of running from my car into his SUV was enough to soak me beyond belief. He drove us out of the lot and into the moderate traffic that was heading downtown.

We talked for a little bit, and then he did something unexpected: he opened his moonroof. Rain shot in. I cried out, "What are you doing?"

He said, "Opening my moonroof."

I pressed myself up against the door, to move as far away as possible from the relentless water, which didn't end up helping much. I yelled, "Close it! You're getting both of us soaking wet!"

He didn't even look at me. He just kept driving along and said, "I like driving wet. If you don't like it, leave."

Even though the prospect of leaving the SUV wasn't enticing, it seemed as though I'd make it to a drier situation all the faster if I left. I gave him one last chance and shouted over the rain, "You're not going to close your moonroof?" Seriously, everything inside his car was sopping, by this point.

He said, "Nope. If you don't like being wet, you're in the wrong car."

Apparently, I was in the wrong car. Soaked to the bone, I waited until a stoplight (less than a block further on) and as soon as he stopped, I jumped out and ran for a convenience store that was nearby.

I didn't have my umbrella with me, as I didn't think I'd be out in the rain whatsoever (and because I'm astonishingly good at forgetting umbrellas). Luckily, the store was selling small ones, and I was able to purchase one and finally make it back to my car.

When I made it back inside, I found that Eric had texted me, "Will still have lunch with you if you want," but by that point, all I wanted to do was go home, dry off, and relax.