Fang Fancier
My blind date and I decided to meet up at a bar in midtown Manhattan. Things were fine at first, especially after we both admitted to being a little nervous. I divulged that I had grabbed a quick drink ahead of time and he (seemingly joking) said, “Oh, good, now I can catch up!”
He was not joking.
“If you could be any monster, what type of monster would you be?” he asked after the first drink.
Unfamiliar with monster lore and completely thrown off by the question, I mumbled something along the lines of, “Um…a monster pirate?”
“I’d be a vampire,” he responded, without hesitation. “Vampires are awesome.”
I should have known to leave right then.
An hour and four drinks later, my date fell off his chair, and I had lead him to a booth so he could regain his balance. He then determined that this was the right time to bite my arm. My shocked expression must not have been a deterrent since he then went for my neck. I pushed him away and suggested it was time to go home. I virtually carried him outside and threw him in a cab, hoping he remembered his own address.
The next day, I noticed a missed call from him on my phone. The message said: “I had a great time last night! Let’s hang out again soon.” Apparently being a vampire gives you selective memory. I never returned his call.
