StoryWorth: The Captain
What is the most awkward date you've been on?
Back in the dark ages of the Internet, I hung out a bunch on USENET. I'm not sure where I ran into The Captain, but we had a pleasant conversation and agreed that we would meet in Downtown Boston and hang out for a couple of hours. So I'm standing on a corner, looking around for someone who fits the description this guy gave me, when a tan Trans Am convertible pulls up next to me with a deeply unattractive guy at the wheel who says "Elizabeth?" It's him.
I've forgotten what his real name was, because one of the first things he said when I got in the car, back in those more innocent days when that seemed like a reasonable thing to do, was that all his friends call him "The Captain," like Captain Kirk. He's a big Star Trek fan--this is fine, I like Star Trek myself. No, no, I don't understand, he's a BIG Star Trek fan. He's been thinking about moving out of his mother's basement, but most of his disposable income goes to expanding his collection of Star Trek memorabilia, which has been appraised at over $1500. Besides, if he moved, he'd be concerned about things getting broken and security for his valued figurines, some of which are worth more than $50 each.
He asks what I'd like to do and after rejecting a couple of suggestions--he doesn't like art, can't really go for a walk thanks to his knee injury, doesn't drink coffee, and isn't hungry right now--decides that he's going to give me a tour of "his Boston". We drive around Allston, where he grew up, and see the Catholic elementary school he attended, and the house where his mother raised him. The kitchen window looked out over the school playground, so when his mom caught him beating up on smaller kids, she'd come sailing out with a wooden spoon and whup his ass.
No, he didn't go to college. He's got a data entry job that he can do via a remote terminal. It pays really well, and he can just have a couple of machines at his mom's. The main office was in Cambridge, but they're talking about moving to California. I mention that I'm thinking about moving to California and he says maybe he'll drive out there one of these days and visit me. He doesn't like to fly, well, he wouldn't know as he's never actually flown, but he really loves to drive long distances. What do I say to driving out along the beach? I try to say that this is getting longer than I was really expecting and he says nah, it'll be quick, and drives me out to the coast.
So, he asks, what do I think of the car? I say that it's very nice. He explains that it's not why he has it, not to impress "the chicks". He doesn't really care what other people think, although most chicks do seem to have a thing for Trans Ams. That's why he was late to meet me, he explains, he was having it waxed and there were a couple of chicks at the carwash who were really into the car. They wanted a ride in it, he could tell, and he hated to disappoint them, but he told them he had a date to get to. They said he should bail on his date and take them for a ride instead, but The Captain is a man of his word. Anyway, all that conversation about the car slowed him down and that's why he was a few minutes late. Just so I know, he isn't usually late.
We drive along--it was a gorgeous day and the views were really lovely. He told me all about his Star Trek gaming group and what he's looking for in a girlfriend. I ask if he's ever been to one of the local science-fiction fan conventions and he says no, that he went to a Star Trek convention once, got something signed by George Takei--do I know who that is? But he just wasn't interested in all those people, everyone posing, trying to prove what a big Star Trek fan they are. The Captain doesn't care if you have only a small collection, or if you focus on autographs, or if you just like to watch the show, although he's not sure that anyone who just watches Star Trek on TV could really be considered a fan, y'know? But who is he to judge?
As we pull up in front of my house, The Captain tells me that this is the greatest date he's ever been on. He feels like he can really talk to me, like a guy, y'know? That's it, I'm not like other women, I can have a real conversation. I'm just too cool. He's got to see me again, because I am just too cool. Maybe he'll call me and I could come over and see some of his collection. He doesn't usually let chicks around his collection, but he can tell I'm really different. I'm just too cool.
I thank him for the ride, make a noncommittal remark about being pretty busy in the next few weeks, and dive for the shelter of my building, thinking that he's absolutely right. I am, indeed, too cool to spend another minute of my life with The Captain.
This entry was originally posted at https://lillibet.dreamwidth.org/1313261.html. You can comment either place! There are
comments over there now.
Back in the dark ages of the Internet, I hung out a bunch on USENET. I'm not sure where I ran into The Captain, but we had a pleasant conversation and agreed that we would meet in Downtown Boston and hang out for a couple of hours. So I'm standing on a corner, looking around for someone who fits the description this guy gave me, when a tan Trans Am convertible pulls up next to me with a deeply unattractive guy at the wheel who says "Elizabeth?" It's him.
I've forgotten what his real name was, because one of the first things he said when I got in the car, back in those more innocent days when that seemed like a reasonable thing to do, was that all his friends call him "The Captain," like Captain Kirk. He's a big Star Trek fan--this is fine, I like Star Trek myself. No, no, I don't understand, he's a BIG Star Trek fan. He's been thinking about moving out of his mother's basement, but most of his disposable income goes to expanding his collection of Star Trek memorabilia, which has been appraised at over $1500. Besides, if he moved, he'd be concerned about things getting broken and security for his valued figurines, some of which are worth more than $50 each.
He asks what I'd like to do and after rejecting a couple of suggestions--he doesn't like art, can't really go for a walk thanks to his knee injury, doesn't drink coffee, and isn't hungry right now--decides that he's going to give me a tour of "his Boston". We drive around Allston, where he grew up, and see the Catholic elementary school he attended, and the house where his mother raised him. The kitchen window looked out over the school playground, so when his mom caught him beating up on smaller kids, she'd come sailing out with a wooden spoon and whup his ass.
No, he didn't go to college. He's got a data entry job that he can do via a remote terminal. It pays really well, and he can just have a couple of machines at his mom's. The main office was in Cambridge, but they're talking about moving to California. I mention that I'm thinking about moving to California and he says maybe he'll drive out there one of these days and visit me. He doesn't like to fly, well, he wouldn't know as he's never actually flown, but he really loves to drive long distances. What do I say to driving out along the beach? I try to say that this is getting longer than I was really expecting and he says nah, it'll be quick, and drives me out to the coast.
So, he asks, what do I think of the car? I say that it's very nice. He explains that it's not why he has it, not to impress "the chicks". He doesn't really care what other people think, although most chicks do seem to have a thing for Trans Ams. That's why he was late to meet me, he explains, he was having it waxed and there were a couple of chicks at the carwash who were really into the car. They wanted a ride in it, he could tell, and he hated to disappoint them, but he told them he had a date to get to. They said he should bail on his date and take them for a ride instead, but The Captain is a man of his word. Anyway, all that conversation about the car slowed him down and that's why he was a few minutes late. Just so I know, he isn't usually late.
We drive along--it was a gorgeous day and the views were really lovely. He told me all about his Star Trek gaming group and what he's looking for in a girlfriend. I ask if he's ever been to one of the local science-fiction fan conventions and he says no, that he went to a Star Trek convention once, got something signed by George Takei--do I know who that is? But he just wasn't interested in all those people, everyone posing, trying to prove what a big Star Trek fan they are. The Captain doesn't care if you have only a small collection, or if you focus on autographs, or if you just like to watch the show, although he's not sure that anyone who just watches Star Trek on TV could really be considered a fan, y'know? But who is he to judge?
As we pull up in front of my house, The Captain tells me that this is the greatest date he's ever been on. He feels like he can really talk to me, like a guy, y'know? That's it, I'm not like other women, I can have a real conversation. I'm just too cool. He's got to see me again, because I am just too cool. Maybe he'll call me and I could come over and see some of his collection. He doesn't usually let chicks around his collection, but he can tell I'm really different. I'm just too cool.
I thank him for the ride, make a noncommittal remark about being pretty busy in the next few weeks, and dive for the shelter of my building, thinking that he's absolutely right. I am, indeed, too cool to spend another minute of my life with The Captain.
This entry was originally posted at https://lillibet.dreamwidth.org/1313261.html. You can comment either place! There are
comments over there now.