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And when I got to the toilet, I realized that the seat was purple.
Purple. Not white like the rest. Purple.
And because I evidently have no clue how to maintain intrigue in dating, I, of course, told Mr. eHarmony all about it.
“WTF? It looks like I sat in something purple and then sat on the john. What the hell?”
“Purple? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. And it’s not coming off with those little Clorox wipes, either.”
“Oh, you use those? I love those things!”
“Yeah, I’m all about the rockstar cleaning products. These wipes are right up there with Swiffer.”
“I have a Swiffer – I was at Target with my sister and she just put it in the cart and said, ‘You need this.’ It’s pretty cool.”
Obviously, we are all about super deep, intelligent and almost philosophical conversations. About this time, I put a little astringent on a cotton ball and wiped it across the back of my leg. And then I started yelling.
“Holy shit! Oh my gawd! I’m purple! The cotton ball is purple!”
Because I’m sexy like that.
My new, gee-I-wonder-why-this-was-on-the-clearance-rack-at-Target skirt is black. And it bled purple onto my skin. And I then I sat on the toilet and stained the seat. I am HOT.
Mr. eHarmony laughed his ass off. And then I realized that it looked like I had a suntan line, except instead of my skin being pink or red, it was a weird, bluish, I-don’t-get-enough-oxygen sort of shade. Sexy!
One long shower, lots of exfoliation and a ton of lotion later, I think I’m back to sort of normal. The fact that Mr. eHarmony claims that he still finds me attractive is a sign that he’s mentally ill, but whatever.
And has anyone ever noticed that the original Charlie looks like he could have grown up to be Jon Bon Jovi?
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