This was the worst second date. She was sure of it. Jill met Trent at a speed-dating event a week ago and they seemed to have enough in common. She was now beginning to wonder if what she’d suspected was a similar sense of humour might actually be a total lack of humour on his part.
Her biggest mistake, she thought as she waded past a clump of weeds, blowing on the call and praying to god that the luminous vest did make her stand out enough, her absolutely biggest mistake was assuming that he actually didn’t go duck shooting. So, when she had sarcastically said that it was her favourite pastime, she had assumed that his laughter was going along with her sarcasm rather than going along with her statement. Jill took a moment to recall the sentence.
‘Oh, yes, I love duck hunting. It’s not at all cruel or horrific.’ Yes, that was definitely sarcasm. She blew the call again. Quacking in a marsh. Worst second date. Ever.
