Last week I had a dinner date go horrendously, horribly wrong. While, in actuality, it went horrendously, horribly wrong for my accompaniment, and I was merely an indirectly affected observer, you can still use this tale as a lesson on how to prepare for the worst for any evening plans.
First, to clarify, it wasn't actually a date, because my accompaniment was merely an old friend, and it wasn't actually dinner, because... well... why don't I just tell the story...
I have been living solo in my own place downtown for nearly six months now, and coincidentally, so has an old friend from high school. Despite living in the same complex all that time, and chatting online on a regular basis, we had yet to actually see each other in person. Last week, we were to correct that little oddity. Meet up, go for dinner, chat the evening away, and catch up on all that has transpired over the years.
Threats to the plan arose the day before the meeting. She messaged me to tell me that, BTW, she had just now broken up with her boyfriend of many years, and so will likely be in a sour mood when we meet the next day. I offered my comforts and condolences, but noted it could be a simple opportunity to keep her mind elsewhere.
The next day, hours before our get-together, another friend contacted me with the opportunity to introduce some dramatic foreshadowing to the story. A few were going to a movie that night, and she was asking if I wanted to join in. I explained that I had previous plans, but added - jokingly - that if it were late enough, and my plans went disastrously wrong and ended early, I would join. She said they were thinking of an 8:00 show. I responded with perfect dramatic timing.
"That's a bit too early. It can't go that disastrously."
Dun dun dunnnn....!
My friend arrived for our meeting, she met the bunny, complimented me on my home, and then noted that she had just sold her unit because she hated everything about the complex: the unit, the builder, the management, the streets, and everyone she's met. Basically, the exact opposite of my experience. Throw in evidence of her mood of the past day and references to balling her eyes out, and it made for a somewhat uncomfortable ten minutes of conversation.
Then her phone rang.
"Oh, it's my brother," she said. "He has class downtown on Wednesday nights and usually likes to park here. Excuse me."
As she answered the phone, I tended to Benji, stroking his fur and giving him a hearty scratch on his cute little bunny head. The last thing I heard from my friend's conversation was a hurried "I'll be right there", and she hung up.
"They have to put my dog down!!" she cried.
As I pondered how tragic such an event must be, I also pondered how much worse it must be when your company is, at that moment, cuddling his own beloved pet and making silly bunny motions.
I ineffectively attempted to console her once again as she departed to tend to her family matters. I closed the door and stood still, quite in shock at the level of disaster of the evening's event, and how quickly it came to an end. I believe the only way it could have been worse was if I had killed her dog.
I stood there a few moments more, confusedly asking the bunny if he had just seen what I had seen. He made no discernable response.
I then joined my friends at the movie, much to their suprise, and with plenty of time to spare. Coincidentally, we saw "The Breakup". It wasn't that good, and it definitely wouldn't have been good if my neighbour-friend had come with me.