ERIC JOYNER, ATTACK OF THE 300 FT. BARBIE - ERICJOYNER.COM BY BRIAN POLK IN MY IMAGINATION, THE LAST DATE I WENT ON ENDED IN HUMILIATION WHEN SHE REFERRED TO ME AS “A COMPLETELY UNDATEABLE WASTE OF TIME” AND SAID, “HOW COULD A LOSER LIKE YOU THINK HE DESERVES LOVE?” In real life, I never went on such a date, because it only happened in my mind. The truth of the matter is, I am scared to death of dating again. So instead of getting on the apps and giving it any sort of effort whatsoever, I let my anxiety set the cruise control as I careen down the highway of worst case scenarios. Honestly, I never even come close to having a date end this poorly. Yet through the result of my own unforgiving brain activity, I have imagined scenarios where terrible things happen to me when I open myself up and become vulnerable. The list of terrible dates that I have envisioned includes, but is not limited to: having a drink thrown in my face, getting all No. 135 excited and dressed up only to have the super volcano in Wyoming (the Yellowstone Caldera) blow its top on the way to the restaurant, being catfished by a group of ninjas-in-training who use my body to see how many times they can kill a man before he hits the ground, going out and having a wonderful time only to realize my date and I are not very compatible, spontaneously combusting (which has to be the most embarrassing thing to happen to you on a first date — other than choking, of course), choking, having my date challenge me to a thumb war and losing badly, not being able to decide which entree is better — the taco plate or the caesar wrap — and ordering the less tasty option, being found out for who I truly am, getting punched in the face by the waiter after asking if I can have the veggie platter without olives, disappointing my date because I am a middle-aged man who dresses like a 15-year-old punk rocker who never learned to tie a tie (which is true), and realizing that the only reason I am dating
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