Bad Date

Oh my gosh, is he serious? Did he really just say that?
“And yeah, I figured... with this economy,” Steve explained, “I shouldn't worry about finding my own place. Plus it makes her happy.”
“Her? You mean...”
“Yep, my momz.” Steve said proudly as he took a swig of rootbear, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

Well, failed experiment number 20, I guess Cheryl Rose thought to herself. This was just the latest in a long line of failed blind dates. And one would have to be blind indeed to not see what a tool this guy was.

“So what do you do for money then Steven?”
“Please, call me S-dawg! And well, I usually go down to the clubs and get naked and stuff for all the girls there.”
“So you're an exotic dancer?” Cheryl asked, thanking the stars that at least he had a job.
“Naw girl! I dont have a job per se but I figured that in this economy, you gotta find a way to make your own cash, even if it isn't one hundred percent ethical. You gonna finish those fries?

And with that, Cheryl felt as if she was going to burst into tears at any moment. Why is it that her friends always set her up with so many lame guys? Are those the only kinds of people her friends know? Or even worse... are those the only kinds of people left in this world? But then the worst thought of all popped into her head... maybe it's just her. Maybe her friends see what she doesn't: She deserves bad quality men.
She began to wonder if settling really did work. As her eyes gleamed secretively across Steve's face, she noticed qualities that she hadn't before. He did have luscious blue eyes, piercing dimples and obviously a killer body. Maybe there's something more to him. This could work out after all.
“Yo are you gonna finish those fries or what?!” Steve yelled belligerently.
Never mind.