This Is a Terrible Date

Overheard: This entire conversation below, as described by my friend ARi Lyon in hilarious detail on Facebook. I couldn’t resist the spoken language, the body language, the awkwardness, and the way both gamely try to turn this around if they can. No matter where we are in life, I think we can all empathize with either party in this conversation.

Where it took me: ARi’s updates were perfect as a found poem, so aside from a very few edits, I accepted this gift as I found it.

The poem

This Is a Terrible Date

She is noticeably bored.

He is noticeably boring.

He tells her

his friend Kyle takes a long time to respond to his texts.

And snap chat. Also, he hates snap chat.

Aw, she says, I kinda like it.

Oh me too! Just … y'know …

She looks around awkwardly. Stretches.

He texts. Probably Kyle.

Who may or may not respond swiftly.

She manages a few words about her family.

Holiday plans. He turns

the conversation back to himself.

He’s talking about Kyle again.

Tries to show her a picture

of something Kyle did.

She gives a brief glance. Looks away.

Sam, now. Brent.

People file in and it’s hard to hear.

They both get quiet. Melancholy.

Both begin to text.

They try again.

I can't re-watch movies or re-read books, he says.

She says she can.

He tells her about a book he's re-read a lot of times.

Can’t decide whether he wants to bore her

or make her like him.

He goes for both, tells her he’s writing a paper

about body image. How the covers

of men's and women's health magazines make people feel.

That’s fascinating, she says.

She may be lying.

He moves on to 3-D printers.

Does not ask her a single question.

She folds her arms, gives up talking.

Spins her leopard-encased phone.

This catches his attention;

they both watch it circle the table.

You can print a gun with a 3-D printer, he says,

years late on the story.

She rests her head.