*This is a work of nonfiction based on actual events I experienced firsthand; used with permission.
My date and I agreed to meet at a local Chinese food restaurant. After we ordered, I learned he didn't actually eat Chinese food. I tried to make the best of it. My food was great, and I enjoyed it.
After I ate and he pushed his food around his plate morosely, I excused myself to use the restroom while he kindly paid the bill.
When I flushed the toilet, I noticed the water kept running. I was familiar with the sound, and I knew exactly what was wrong. One little adjustment under the toilet tank cover was all it would take to get the toilet running properly again.
I decided to be a good customer and an even better citizen by fixing the toilet for them. First, I removed the toilet tank cover and balanced it on the sink. Then I poked around inside the toilet tank until I felt satisfied I had corrected the problem.
The water began running again the moment I replaced the cover on the tank. Only this time, instead of staying inside the tank, the water jetted through the gap between the cover and the tank onto the floor.
Panicked, I left.
The last thing I saw before I closed the bathroom door was a growing puddle of toilet water on the floor.
I will admit I did the wrong thing by saying nothing as I escaped the restaurant into the parking lot.
My date immediately asked what was wrong. The bottoms of my pants were wet, and I had an expression on my face that he couldn't decipher.
I told him what had happened, and he looked horrified. He offered to take me back inside so we could explain, but I declined. You couldn't pay me to go back inside that place.
My date drove us downtown, where there was a block party later that night. We planned to enjoy a night of dancing and entertainment culminating in a fireworks display, but my anxiety had other plans.
Just as we rounded the last corner to our destination, I changed my mind about going. My date tried to be a good sport about it and drove us across state lines so we could see a late movie instead, but I didn't like the way he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and muttered under his breath.
He paid for our movie tickets. It was a film about vampires. We were the only ones in the theater. No sooner had the opening credits ended than I was sound asleep in my chair with my hand buried to the wrist in our shared popcorn box.
I woke up during the ending credits and didn't know where I was. My hands were greasy and smelled like popcorn. Apparently, I had been snoring like a rusty chainsaw in an echo chamber.
He drove me back to my car in silence.
Although he said little about our "date," he didn't seem pleased. He ditched me in the parking lot without saying goodbye, and I never heard from him again.