My shrink gave me a list of questions to answer. He still hasn’t received them yet from me because I haven’t even looked at that piece of paper since our meeting. He likes to call them sessions. I prefer to call them a waste of time, but my parents insist I continue to see him. They sure came around full circle. Back when I was a kid, they loved to point out how our cousin Marta turned out to be a failure and how she was in a mental institution for a while. This is my mom’s brother’s middle child. While it never has been proven by anyone in my family, my uncle says the middle child feels the most left out. The first child is the best because they were first born. The last child is the one that gets away with the most stuff because by then his parents don’t give a crap. The middle child feels like the black sheep in the family. I asked my uncle when I was young what if parents only have two children. His response was parents who only have one or two kids shouldn’t have kids at all. I vaguely remember looking at him confused. I later asked my parents why he said that. Their response was uncle bob never means what he says. He was joking. I doubt he was. After his kids grew up into adults, I heard from them some interesting stories. I sort of wish he had been my dad.
You know the same friend who visited me a few days ago. He set me up on a blind date with this woman named Vicki. I’m not too fond of her name, but Ryan said she’s everything I’m looking for in a woman. In case he’s wrong, I decided to go out for lunch with her instead of dinner and told him he better call me 15 minutes into it. The deal is if I pick up and ask hello mother, is everything okay? that I’m ready to move onto the next single woman somewhere out there. I’ll say to him I’m coming over right now and apologize to Vicki for having to cancel. If I pick up the phone and say hi Larry, actually I’m on a date right now that things are okay and going to give it another 15 minutes before making the decision to stay or leave. I can always angle it where I can pretend later, I need to leave. If I don’t pick up at all, then things are going great and more than likely will get laid later. Jeez, I hope so. Better go pick up condoms later.
I decided to buy a new shirt for the occasion. I dusted off my jacket, the one that brings me the most luck, and my favorite pair of shoes. They’re a little worn out, but you can’t go wrong with Italian leather loafers. A gift from my grandpa when he visited Florence. My date with Vicki is today. I’m ready for lunch to be over so she can come over to my place. I’m willing to give her shot. She looks pretty enough from the photos Ryan sent me. I was going to snoop on her Facebook page, but I don’t want to come across as a creep. Plus, she might have some weird fetish that will turn me off and what’s the fun in knowing it will be over before it’s even begun.