Linda and I dated for about a year, but I broke it off because, well, I just don't have much in common with a sorority girl who's into The Grateful Dead and Dave Matthews Band. Physically, things were great though, so we did the booty call thing for a while afterward. I had a Saturday night DJ residency at the time, and she would show up and hang out a lot. The way I knew I could come over and spend the night is if she slipped me a guest parking pass for her apartment complex when I gave her a hello hug. It was pretty sweet, but it didn't last, and she's married now, so at least one of us (me) doesn't think it's a good idea anymore.

Now I wear a couple of piercings, specifically a nose ring and a labret, which if you don't know is when you have your chin just below your lower lip pierced. Back then I used to wear a rather elaborate piece of steel jewelry there, kind of looked like the tail of an alien, curling out in a U shape. Pretty out there and cool looking.

ANYWAY, one night I'm doing a set, and Linda shows up at the club, looking very hot, and I come over to say Hello and get the parking pass, which put a real spring in my step. After loading out I got to her place around 3:30AM, and she's gone all out: Candles, incense, whole nine yards. She's lying in bed, naked and half uncovered, back to the door. She knows that drives me nuts, a good back and shoulders really does it for me, anyhoo, I act all suave and undress really quietly, slip in bed behind her, start the foreplay, go for a few minutes, and then as I'm nuzzling an ear or something I realize... I can't move my head. My Spidey Sense tingles, and I stop, but for some reason I can't move my head. I'm stuck somehow. See, Linda has rather long blonde hair, and that labret jewelry tended to, uh, get in the way a lot, so to my utter horror I realize... it's tangled in her hair. "OH SHIT WTF NOW" says my inner voice, as my hands go through the motions while I think wildly about what to do. I try leaning back ever so slightly, no luck. I casually try to reach over to extract if from her hair and I CAN'T EVEN FEEL IT. This piece of jewelry is in the center of a huge BALL of her hair. In a blind panic, I reflexively tug, and it goes something like this:

"Uh, hon, it's stuck."

One short heated exchange, a VERY awkward mutual trip to the linen closet, a pair of scissors and a sizable hunk of her hair later and I am truly not getting any and officially the least Smoove I've ever been in my life.

Let's just say I never got the parking pass again after that. Nor have I worn that stupid jewelry.

went on two dates with this girl last summer. The first one was great, we went to dinner, had a good conversation, and then went to see Dodgeball. I had a few drinks at dinner so I thought the movie was the funniest thing I'd ever seen. Anyways, we plan a second date. We decide to drive about 30 minutes south to go to this party town here in San Diego and hit up a few clubs and bars. After a few hours of bar and club hopping, I'm fucking drunk. She had also been drinking, but not nearly as much as me. First mistake there. We decide to leave the club around 1am and she drives us back to her place.

On the way home, I suddenly have to take the most important piss of my life. It was torture having to sit in her truck and hold it for 30 minutes, especially since she was driving right at the speed limit. I considered asking her to take an exit so I could piss at a fast food place or something, but decided against it because I wanted to save face. Mistake number two.

We finally arrive at her place, and my back teeth are fucking floating by this time. I literally rip off my seat belt, push the door open with my feet, and jump out of the truck. I start heading for the door, but have to wait for her to catch up. That's when it happened. My drunkard ass pissed my fucking pants right there in front of her. I don't think she realized it at first, and I made my way to the bathroom as fast as I could while trying to keep it from soaking up my jeans as much as I could. The minute or two I spent in that bathroom was probably one of the worst times of my life. I finally gave up trying to salvage my dignity, and exit the bathroom. She sees what happened, and just gets this "oh my GOD..." look on her face. I go outside, and she gives me a hug and thanks me for the date. She mentions something about hanging out again soon, but it was obviously a lie to get me the hell away from there. My drive home was pitiful.

Junior year of high school I had an excrutiating crush on this really cute sophomore chick. I had never really hung out with her outside of school but had hung out with her during free periods at school and ridden the bus with her for two years and knew her fairly well. I wouldn't exactly consider her a "friend," but she was someone with whom I had some of the most facile and interesting conversations I've ever had. I wasn't exactly a ladies man at the time and wasn't particularly talented at making good conversation with girls except my established platonic female friends, so it did seem like a big deal to me that she put me at ease and was so easy to talk to. Plus she was ridiculously cute.

So prom approaches, and I discuss with my friends the fact that I ought to ask her. It is decided, and I start working up the courage. Literally an hour before I was to execute the plan, a friend informed me that a senior had just asked her (we had combined junior/senior prom because my school was small). There was a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. I ended up going to prom without a date. At the end of the year, she signed my yearbook with about half a page of pretty funny ramblings and references to conversations we'd had and stuff, concluded by the fatal non-sequitor: "You should have asked me sooner."

The next year she was together with this total douchebag (who she once revealed to me was abusive). However at some point during the year they broke up, and I began to think my chances would reappear. I showed up drunk and very stoned to some school dance about a month before senior prom, and found her there. For some reason I decided it was worth a second shot. I don't exactly remember the conversation, but it contained smoothness of the following caliber

Me (slurring): Hey so you remember what you wrote in my yearbook last year?
Her: Huh?
Me: Uh, you know... *wink*
Her: What are yout alking about?
Me: "You should have asked me sooner..."
Her: Uh, I guess. So?
Me: So I was thinking maybe I could take you up on the offer now.
Her: Ryan and I are getting back together.

Sweet. I vaguely recall then having a very emotional conversation with her outside of the dance for what seemed like at least an hour, effectively trying to convince her not to get back together with Mr. Douche. I probably came across as a totally whiney holier-than-thou control freak, employing such brilliant arguments as "Is he even going to go to college? You deserve better than him. Don't throw away your future by falling back into that." Surprisingly, it didn't work. I never talked to her again after that night.

That's it for this week's Goldmine. We'll see you next week, when the goons will be making fun of various minority groups and/or the severely handicapped in the most tasteless ways possible. See you then!

– Nick "Mayor Wilkins" Dunn

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