Hey, These Burgers Taste Funny

Story Sent in by Caleb:

The summer after my freshman year in college, I worked part-time at a fast food place in a mall food court with Amanda. Amanda was tattooed, had eight piercings (that I could see), was tall, and had some downright sexy legs. We were the two youngest employees by something close to 10 years, so we bonded pretty quickly. I was brave enough to take her out on one date around the end of the summer, and we kissed at the end of it. It was a sweet end to the season, and it made coming home smelling like burgers almost worth it.

I went back off to college, several states away, and although we stayed in touch a fair amount at the beginning of the semester, schoolwork, sports, and social events meant that I had less and less time to devote to her, and soon we fell out of touch. In all fairness, we both could've been in touch more.

The summer after my sophomore year, it was no more flipping burgers: I had an internship in a cool recording studio in a city close to home. I had also found a girlfriend in college that year, and I was pretty crazy about her.

The morning after I had arrived back home for summer break, Amanda called me to ask if I was back in town. She wanted to get together. I didn't see any harm in it, although I planned to tell her that I was seeing someone. For all I knew, Amanda was seeing someone, too. I'd have been happy for her, were that the case.

We arranged to meet in front of the mall that evening. Amanda gave me the biggest hug when she saw me, and she suggested that we hit up a nearby restaurant and a movie.

At dinner, at first, Amanda laughed at almost everything I said, as if she thought I was some strange, handsomer blend of Will Ferrell, Bill Murray, and Groucho Marx. I like to think I have a good sense of humor, but she seemed to be overdoing it on the laughing. She told me that over the past year, she had been promoted to assistant manager at the burger place. Then, when the time seemed right in the conversation, I told her that I had a girlfriend.

"Oh my God," Amanda said, then repeated, "Oh my God" a few more times.

I asked her, "Are you okay?"

She replied, "I thought I was your girlfriend."

We had never made anything official, had "the talk," or even been in touch very much over the past several months. Yet she apparently believed that things were more serious between us than they were.

I tried to let her down gently. "I'm sorry. We just had the one date, and we've hardly been in touch, and I thought we were just friends."

"Just friends who've kissed loads of times."

"Uh... once."

"I can't believe this."

She put her face in her hands. I said, "We can still hang out, go see the movie–"

She said, "Not much point to that, now, is there?"

She was pretty snippy through the rest of dinner, and at the end of it, she forged on ahead of me, out of the restaurant. I called after her, "Wait up. Are you going to be okay?"

She replied, "I'm going to mash my face into the burger grill. Maybe then, you'll take me seriously."

That alarmed me. I said, "You're not really going to do that, are you?"

"Watch me," she said, then took off, toward the mall, at a sprint.

I ran after her until I stopped caring, which was about 10 feet. I went home.

A little less than an hour later, she sent me the following four texts in rapid succession:


I've avoided the mall food court ever since.