I was a bit ambivelant about posting this story as i have no ill will towards the young lady involved and would feel bad if she took offense.  That being said, the circumstances and awkwardness that resulted from this date make it hard to deny as one of the funnier dates i know of and after much lobbying from some people who know the story, here it is.  Yes, i just might see you in hell.

PROLOGUE
Several years ago while in the midst of adjusting to the first year of law school and getting used to not being around my friends from Pomona as much as I would have liked and at the urging of a couple friends in law school i signed up for this thing called myspace.  This was prior to people “pimping” out their pages and engaging in other acts of foolishness.

*Sidenote* – Top 10 things that bug the shit out of me on myspace:
1. People with 3,872 images to load on their page……they have a whole section of your page already dedicated to pictures which is entitled the “view more pics” section…..the theory behind this being that if i wanted to see more pictures i would click on said link, these people have stripped me of my decision-making ability and it bugs me………not to mention the fact that it takes 12 years to load their page
2. People with 2 videos and 3 songs loaded and playing all at the same time….i either spend 7 minutes trying to locate all the culprits of the noise pollution on your page or i just leave………consequently i am not friends with these people.
3. People who put up celebrity pics as if they were their own and then thrown in one actual pic of them from 50 yards away in the dark with no flash on the camera…..do you really think i don’t know who vida guerra is?…..thefuckouttahere……
4. People who have color and font schemes with pictures in the background that make it impossible to read what they wrote about themselves…….ladies, i’m really trying to come up with something witty and inciteful to say to you but if i can’t read what you wrote i will be forced to compliment your ass cheeks hanging out of your shorts in 6 of your pictures…..neither of us want this so help me out
5. Ladies who throw up a scantily clad picture to attract attention and then attempt to lecture you about the objectification of women……either own the sexy you are advertising or take the pictures down
6. Guys, put your GOTdamn shirts back on………..and yes, some of this annoyance may be borne out of the fact that i don’t have a shirtless pic i feel like sharing with everyone….mostly because i don’t have the body for it
7. pEoPLe wHo RanDoMly uSE tHe SHifT bUTtoN…….you and i both know that it takes MORE effort to type like that and certainly does not make the sentence look better
8. Girls with webcams who act like they are not girls with webcams…….hmmmm let’s see you just sent me the same message word for word under the names BellaSexxxy, SexxxyBaby and BellaSexxxyBaby inviting me to “cHaT on aIM sumtyme LOLZ” SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUTUP
9. People on myspace who are under 20 and over 35, grow up or get younger
10. Anyone who has dedicated any time on their page to inform the masses about “haters”……e.g. “i luv the haterz cuz they want what i got”……”fuck the haterz i’m doin me”…….these people typically fall into two categories: (1) 24 year old obese women from watts with 4 kids who drive an ‘82 accord with spinners (the only people hating on them is the government and common sense) (2) spoiled twentysomething girls who “party like a rockstar” or claim to “rock out with my cock out” and have no responsibilities (i genuinely hate these people)
11. People with blogs and people who can’t properly execute a top ten list.

Back to the story.  In any event, i signed up for myspace and soon received instructions from my law school buddies that this was a good way to meet girls.  I was quick to point out that up until that point meeting girls over the internet was reserved for Russian mail order brides and 47 year old accountants named Norm Templeton.  Nonetheless they weren’t entirely wrong.  I tend to have a rough time approaching women in bars and clubs as in my head it always plays out as:

Me: Hi
Her: Oh….hi
Me: Yeah….so i thought you were hot from over there……so i’m over here now
Her: I see
Me:  Prolly shoulda thought through the next step after coming over here
Her:  Yeah…..why don’t you head back and over and give it another shot….this time try it with someone who isn’t…..me
Me:  Ok….good talk….

That, coupled with the fact that i hadn’t perfected the helloi’msomewhatwittyandfunnyandsmartandgreatinbedandyouwillprobablyfallinlovewithmewithin3months handshake yet prompted me to give the myspace thing a shot.  After all, this way i could see if i actually did want to go out with the girl BEFORE the date as opposed to coming to that realization after i dropped $50 on dinner.

So i met this girl on there.  We exchanged e-mails for the better part of a week and then started talking on AIM (a MUST in the transition from that random person on myspace i got a message from to that person i know) and after several days of putting the IM in PIMP we agreed to go to dinner.  This was in the days prior to me owning a car in LA and so she agreed to drive over and pick me up.

When she arrived i went out, gave her a hug, brought her in and showed her around the apartment but my roommates weren’t home so she didn’t meet them.  She was cute, not am i dreaming dear God is that Salma Hayek? fine but cute.  She said she was tired of driving as she’d been in traffic all day and asked me to drive her car to the restaurant.  Seemed a bit odd as she just met me but i’m trustworthy and to be honest it was like a ‘89 Ford Escort so i doubt she was all that concerned with any damage.

ACT I
We drove down to Benihana and they sat us at the grill right in the middle with a family of 4 on our left and two couples on our right.  So we’re sitting there talking, good conversation but i can tell she’s still a little shy.  After we order the waitress comes around and asks us if we’re cool eating with chopsticks or if we need a fork and my date says “oh, i need a fork.”  So i try to tease her a little, make her more comfortable, joking back and forth -

Me: “oh come on, you can’t use chopsticks?….it’s real easy”
Her: “nah, i really can’t, it’s ok…can i have a fork please?”
Me: “aw, you not coordinated enough?…come on i’ll show you, you just put this here and this here and do like this” *choppitychopsticks*
Her: “no, i mean like i really can’t, right there, i’m missing a finger”
Me: *thinks she just means she’s awkard*……….*pause*
Her: *holds up hand*
Me: *counts fingers*…..*only gets to 3*
Her: “see…”

Apparently she had a birth defect where she was only born with 3 fingers on each hand, thumb and index and middle.  There weren’t nubs for the others or anything she just had a skinny palm and 3/5 of a hand on both hands.  So I found out the same time the ENTIRE rest of the table found out and at that point she realized that she hadn’t told me this very important piece of information about her.  So I’m trying VERY hard not to stare and look horrified at the same time and i can tell she feels awkward now so i try to act like this isn’t some new shit to me and very unconvincingly muster up “oh….right….i forgot….?”  At this point she’s realized what a weird position she’s put me in so she immediately tries to make me feel more comfortable with the whole situation by making jokes and teasing herself and whatnot.  But I don’t know her that well and I can’t just join in with “haha, you’re deformed” but i can’t ignore her efforts to bring attention to it so I have to laugh awkwardly through the rest of dinner while she’s talking and try not to obsess about her 6 digits too much.

ACT II
We finished dinner and headed outside and it was November or December and very cold for LA (so probably in the high 50’s) outside so i put my jacket on and she busts out her gloves….3 fingered gloves.  Apparently she works at a middle school and proceeded to tell me -

Her: “all the kids always come up and ask me if i buy my gloves like this”
Me: “….oh…”
Her: “but obviously i don’t cause they don’t sell 3 fingered gloves….hee hee”
Me: “riiight, of course not….that’s gotta be…..frustrating?”
Her: “oh but it’s ok cause my mommy just buys regular gloves and cuts off the fingers and sews ‘em up”
Me: “…oh….well that’s nice of her….”
Her: “YUP!” *big grin*

ACT III
We’re right next to the promenade and we decide to walk around for a bit and we end up in Urban Outfitters and wander downstairs to where all the comfy cushions and everything are.  I lie down and close my eyes and attempt to comprehend what the fuck is going on and just as I’m deep in thought….*WHOP*…her 3 fingers land on my forearm in a eagle talon like manner.  I jumped so damn bad and managed to come up with  “oh, sorry, you snuck up on me” instead of the actual “holy fuck something just perched on my arm” thought that was running through my head.  So I drove us back to my place, gave her a hug and said good night and before I could get to my room she had already texted me telling me how she had a great time and wanted to see me again soon.  I talked to her a couple more times and made it pretty obvious that I wasn’t interested (and to be clear, the hand thing wasn’t the end-all be-all, she was cute, but not BAD, she was cool, but not DOPE, the hand thing may have nudged things one direction but it wasn’t the only reason.)

EPILOGUE
About a month ago my friend Sandy and I were getting brunch on Main St. in Santa Monica and we’re almost done when I hear some girl telling a story loud as hell about her running from something or something like that.  I look over and see the three fingered girl 20 feet away telling a story, biting her nails and gesturing wildly.  I immediately hide my face behind my hand and look at Sandy, who I had told this story to before.  I was like “that’s her….look over there.”  It takes her a second to notice but as soon as she does, Sandy, who isn’t the world’s quietest person and whispers about as effectively as a fog horn says “OHMYGOD!” and immediately covers her mouth.  She then decides that she has to call her best friend Chelsea immediately and the whole time i’m telling her “shut up….shut up…shut upshutupSHUTUP!…………..hang up the phone…hang up the phone….hangupthephoneHANGUPTHEPHONE!”  So I grab the phone and hang it up and bolt out the restaurant telling Sandy that I’ll just bring the car around.  Sandy gets to the car 10 minutes later and starts asking questions like “why is she biting her nails when she only has 3 fingers?  why is she bringing attention to it?  how do you think she gives a hand job?  do you think she gets a discount on manicures?”, etc. and I drive off…
THE END