You’re down in the dumps, sad about your boyfriend leaving you for a prettier, more confident girl who has a job and knows how to floss. One of your friends tries to set you up on a blind date. Luckily, it’s with me, the King of Smooth.
I call you up and tell you that, no pressure, I want to take you out to dinner and fall in love with you. You say you’re free tomorrow, but I’m already outside on the back seat of a tandem bicycle. The front seat is taken by a violinist I’ve hired to play my theme song. You walk alongside us as we bike to your favorite restaurant.
Halfway into dinner, you’re head over heels. You’ve got a bad case of Smooth, and you’re ready to settle down. I’ve been to the bathroom six times. I’m leaning in, talking real breathy, dropping hints that I’m about to propose. “I’m about to propose,” I say as I get up to go the bathroom again. I don’t even have to go.
I come back with only a little bit of pee on my shoes, not mine, and tell you to look down. You do and smile. There’s some on your dress, too. You look up and I’m on one knee. This is it, you think. But I’m actually re-Velcroing my shoes. I don’t know how to tie shoes normally, but then again there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.
When you just can’t take the waiting any more, you ask me to marry you. Maybe, I say. If you close your eyes and let me propose the right way. After a few minutes, you open them. I’m gone, along with your wallet and a used tissue from your purse. The waiter brings over the phone: someone’s calling from the bathroom. The King of Smooth has struck again.
