I Rode My Bicycle To Work And I Got A Date Out Of It

My morning did not start off the way I wanted it to. The jeans I hoped to wear were dirty. My dog bit me and subsequently so did another dog before 8am. My bike pedal fell off on my ride to work, and now I was late. As I cruised towards the office on my poorly maintained bicycle, a line of cars formed as drivers wanted to turn left. I also wanted to turn left, and started moving into the line of cars, but a sporty silver car would not let me in! The driver flat out refused to make room for me. I saw him shaking his head from the corner of my eye, and immediately was irritated. Who did this person think he was? King of the road, ruler of the asphalt lanes?  Cyclists have rights too! I decided to pass him on his left, and immediately rode up beside all the cars and beat him to the left hand turn. I tried to calm myself down, as I was on the final stretch of my commute, and did not want to start off my Thursday at work angry.  Why wouldn’t he let me in? Why was he shaking his head at me? I was not in the wrong!

As I tried to mentally soothe myself, I heard him. I knew it was him, bearing down on me in his shiny, dumb, nice car, revving his engine as he shook his head passing me. Again! I had done nothing wrong! There was absolutely NO need for a second headshake. I had had enough. As his car pulled into the gate for the parking garage, I pedaled my heart out so I could get to him before he parked. I pulled up beside him as close as I could get, while he searched for his gate pass. His window was open; I didn’t need to indicate for him to roll it down. The berating flew out of my mouth before I could think about it.

“Why did you have to be such an asshole?!” I demanded.

A chiseled, handsome face turned around to meet my angry, red one. The man in the stupid car was stunning.

“Did you signal? Do you think I can read your mind?” He retorted.

Before I could answer he started again.

“And where on earth is your helmet? I’m worried about you!”

I was shocked. I had no answer. No, I did not signal; my intent to turn was clear. Of course I wasn’t wearing a helmet, as it was stolen last week off my bike (who steals a used helmet? Gross). I panicked. His dark eyes were penetrating my soul, and I started to feel a bit ashamed of my quick reaction and tongue lashing I had dished. I always over react, it’s a major downfall of mine. This was turning into an embarrassing situation for me. I had to do something. I needed to recover. So naturally, I lied.

“I didn’t have time to signal! You cut me off before I could even put my arm out!”I yelled. “I just don’t think we’re going to agree on this matter,” I sighed with a headshake of my own.

“I doubt it” he said, so politely.

“Well then, you just have a great day!” I stammered as I slowly backed my bike away from his car. What was I thinking? I definitely did not expect such a good looking man to be driving that car, and I definitely did not expect him to have any valid points for our argument.

I crept into the office, and told the story to my co-workers. Immediately they told me I had to leave him a note on his car. I wrote one: “I’m sorry I didn’t signal. I need both my hands to ride a bike.” One of my coworkers, G, came with me to leave a note, and unbeknownst to me, left my business card along with the note.

Photo taken by author.
Photo taken by author.

The next day, I received an e-mail from the dark and handsome driver, accepting my apology and offering to either give me proper bike riding lessons, or to take me out for a drink. I opted for the drink and had the most lovely, perfect and adorably awkward first date ever. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

This post originally appeared at What Boys My Come.

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