Monday Night Love

This is a story about how I won my good friend’s girlfriend on a radio dating game show.

When I first agreed to appear on the dating show, I was looking for either the love of my life or my big break into Hollywood. Things changed, however, when Andrew got wind of the fact that the dating show was merely an elaborate setup for him to be fixed up with someone who had a crush on him. Consequently, he called to ask me if I would be willing to “take the fall.” Of course, I would. In fact, this scenario seemed all the more amusing to me. Now that we had inside knowledge that gave us a good idea as to the ultimate outcome of the show, we thought we could have fun with it. My intention was to get drunk, make a fool of myself, then have Andrew step in and say, “Though you are a good friend, I am ashamed that you are so drunk and embarrassing this classy lady, here.” He would look like a hero and win, or perhaps re-win, her affections.

Before we could script our staged interactions further, it came to our attention that not only had Andrew found out the big secret, but the bachelorette had now learned that Andrew knew the big secret. There are only so many levels of secrecy that can exist in that type of situation, so eventually Andrew met her and they went on a couple of dates before the taping of the show.

Let the record show that Andrew is a cheater. This may have been a dishonest game show to begin with, but it is super dishonest to take the bachelorette on dates before the game, allowing him an unfair advantage over fellow contestants Dan and me.

As the show was scheduled for a Monday night, I was not about to alter my regular Monday Margarita plans. I went and began drinking, fully expecting fellow attendees (and radio participants) Dan and Andrew to be there matching me glass for glass. When they didn’t show up, I brainstormed ideas for the show with the friends who were there on how to make it the best damned radio show ever. Fully expecting to lose at this point, I decided I would expose the fix for what it was live on the air. When Andrew was chosen, I would jump in and shout, “Sham! There are so many layers of sham going on here that this is a Shamwich!”

At the last minute, Andrew told me he wanted me to “try.” At this point, I imagine he had every reason to feel confident, so why would he need anyone to throw it. I don’t even know what “trying” would entail, to tell you the truth. I just planned to answer the questions truthfully. Perhaps “trying” would mean I would lie about myself to appear dreamy, which really isn’t my style.

I was far too drunk to be allowed on the air. I realized this when Dan and Andrew led me down the hall to the studio and were laughing at me rather than with me. Granted, it wasn’t mean-spirited, but moreso, “This will be fun witnessing him make an utter fool of himself on the air.” It was one thing when I thought we were all going to be drunk and ridiculous on the air, but it’s completely different when you’re the only one out of eight people on the air. Hence, I spent most of the time trying to act as though I was not as drunk as everyone knew me to be. That’s always fun. Here are just a few highlights from the evening:

List three adjectives that least describe you:
Andrew: Underwater. Dead. Metallic.
Dan: Incapable. Quiet. Freddy Mercury. (Because Dan has "never been involved with the band Queen in any way, shape, or form.")
Me: Appropriate. Shallow. Sober.

I got in trouble (which consisted of everyone silently giving me glares and mouthing “No!”) for implying that I was the opposite of sober. You’re not allowed to do that on the air, apparently.

Do you know what baby Suri is?
Dan: Wasn’t that the latest flavor at 21 Choices [a local frozen yogurt joint]?
Andrew: I’m lactose intolerant, but I do enjoy sorbet. (He never really answered the actual question, but a fine answer nonetheless.)
Me: I’m ashamed to admit that I know it’s the unfortunate love child of Tom Cruise and that Dawson’s Creek chick, Katie Holmes. It’s actually a pretty cute baby. Not that I’m into babies.

Apparently, alluding to pedophilia, even when affirming distaste for such an activity, is a giant no-no. If looks could kill!

Which one of the seven deadly sins are you?
Dan: Wrathful.
Me: I was going to say Bashful, but I’m pretty sure that’s a dwarf and not a sin. Gluttony.
Andrew: I’ll say sloth. Yeah, sloth. That’s the thing about sloth, you can’t really elaborate.

If you could invent a month, what would you name it?
Andrew: Andrew.
Dan: Rocktober. (Needless to say, Rocktober could not be topped.)

Later, in reference to Rocktober, or perhaps just rocking with the band Boston on a spaceship (how did that even come up?), I sputtered of Andrew, “Maybe you’re too sloth-like to rock.” The slam on my part was unwarranted, but I seemed to feel entitled knowing he would soon be declared the winner. There were a couple times I took swipes at Andrew, partially because of hostility, partially because of intoxication, and partially because I was hoping he’d jump in and perform the skit we had discussed previously.

Dan and Andrew are hilarious people; I spent nearly the whole show laughing. Hearing the show back, I realize you can’t tell because I always made sure to turn my swivel chair around and laugh with my hands covering my face so I wasn’t that obnoxious drunk on the radio.

It is also clear that while Dan and I were going for the bizarrely amusing responses, Andrew was carefully crafting thoughtful responses. So while he was trying to impress, Dan and I shot the breeze rather comfortably.

Would you still like me if I were a pug?
Dan said yes and he would consult Wikipedia for excellent pet care tips. I said sure, and would be sure to clean between her creases. Meanwhile, Andrew gave a cute response saying of course, and that he would do everything he would normally do with her, just perhaps slower since pugs have tinier legs. Also, they’d probably take the elevator more often. When he posed the question back to her, she also said of course, and that she’d probably put him in a baby carriage to expedite their travel. It was all so cute, I awwwed.

Just after that, when the moment of truth came and I was prepared to shout my “Shamwich!” line, I was pretty shocked to hear my own name called as the winner because, well, that wasn’t supposed to happen. I was actually a bit embarrassed for everyone at that point. Though the bachelorette had been keeping score, I thought it was all on a hypothetical level, but apparently the tally was actually counted. When asked for my reaction, I said I was excited “to have won her heart… through math.”

The game turned out to be a shamwich, however, when, right after going off the air, my prize wrapped her arms around Andrew. And then went home with him.

Sigh. Even when I win it at love, I still lose.