Tonight I was supposed to go out with a woman who, as of last night at 8:30pm, sounded like she wasn't going to live to see 8:35. What she had wasn't going to be cured by one of those "nighttime, sniffling, sneezing so you can rest" medicines. She sounded like she was about to cough up a goddamn kidney, forget about a lung. She could barely speak without sneezing or coughing. I told her I hoped she felt better, and that I'd give her a call over the weekend to reschedule our date.
"Reschedule?," she proclaimed in a somewhat annoyed manner. "Why would you want to reschedule?"
"You're in no shape to go out," I said. "We'll get together when you're feeling better."
"I'll be fine by tomorrow," she insisted. "I'm usually not sick for more than a week, and this is my 7th day of being sick."
I felt myself starting to catch a fever just talking to her over the phone, and I explained to her that I thought it would be best if we waited until at least next week to meet.
"What're you some sort of neurotic germaphobe," she replied in a bitchy tone. "Don't be such a pussy! It's not like we're gonna have sex or anything. It's just a cup of coffee."
"Well then, if we're not gonna have sex, then I see no point in meeting at all," I responded, hoping my attempt at sarcasm might ease her bitchiness.
"What the fuck did you just say to me?," she scowled. "You think I'm some kind of whore?"
"Not at all," I replied. "Just an inconsiderate bitch who doesn't care if she gets other people sick. Not only should you not leave the house until your fever goes down, but you should lock yourself in your witch's den until you pull that broomstick out of your ass, and learn not to behave like a total fucking douchebag!"
Well, that's what I really wanted to say. What I actually said was just the "Not at all" part, to which she responded, "That's what I thought. So what time are we meeting tomorrow?"
I had to put her on fake hold for a few seconds to regroup. I couldn't believe Typhoid Mary actually thought I'd want to meet her after her psychotic tirade. I gathered my thoughts, and prepared myself to simply tell her I didn't think we were a match, but she was gone when I got back on the phone.
Maybe she hung up on me, or maybe the fever actually got the best of her while she was on hold. Either way, my evening's wide open.