Or the Wrong Side of the Crib

Story Sent in by Darnell:

I was having a nice first-date conversation with Eileen when she asked me, "Do you like stories?"

"Sure."

She began, "Once there was a guy named Darnell who died. The end." Then she laughed.

Being a guy named Darnell, I wasn't sure what the point was to her saying such a thing. So I said, "I have a story for you: once there was a girl named Eileen who said stupid things. The end."

Her grin disappeared. She said, "It wasn't stupid. It was real. Gritty. True. It really hurt me that you just said that."

I replied, "So it's okay for you to make something up about me dying? That's all right?"

She said, "Yeah. Free speech, remember?"

I said, "So that applies to me, too."

"Not if it hurts my feelings."

I said, "What if what you just said about me dying hurt my feelings?"

"Then you deserve it for calling me stupid."

"I only called your story stupid after you told yours, first. Do you see the lack of logic, here?"

"I see that maybe you're stupid. Think about that?"

She folded her arms and gave me a dark look. I guess someone had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. For a little while, we sat in one of the most awkward silences I had ever experienced. Then she said, "I'm waiting."

"For?"

"An apology? Hello?"

"Oh. I'll think about it."

We split dinner and never spoke to each other again. Thank goodness.