I never leave home on a first date without my Genus Edition. It’s like carrying condoms for your brain.
Playing Trivial Pursuit on a first date weeds out the people I cannot date, specifically normal people.
If you’re a little appalled that I’m forcing you to play a difficult trivia game on a first date, you’re going to be considerably more appalled when I correct you on your grammar or spelling or how many furlongs there are in a mile.
You’re going to think I’m an uppity know-it-all bitch, and again really weird. You may be right, but you’re also not getting this milkshake unless you know what became America’s first organized sport in 1664.
First dates suck.
Trivia is the best way to avoid awkward cliche first date conversation.
Instead, you’ll talk about what your favorite inert gas is. Where you were when the Berlin Wall came down.
Or that you know Nevada was the western state that led the U.S. in percent increase in population from 1980 to 1989 because you worked briefly at a brothel, where you spent your days studing state history and your nights servicing clients. Getting-to-know-you stuff!
You learn their weaknesses.
Later on, when you’re fighting all the time in your unhappy relationship, you can really hurt your significant other by mocking their lack of knowledge about science and nature or sports and leisure.
“You can’t even spell McEnroe, you fucknugget, let alone remember how many Grand Slams he’s won!” you can yell while throwing a lamp at their head.
You don’t get drunk.
I likesssh errrybody whens I;m drunk. [sic] If you’re playing Trivial Pursuit you’ll want to stay sober, ensuring you don’t go out on two more dates with someone your friends refer to as “Grandma’s Boy” and beg you to meet only in a public place.
If you’re good, you look good.
I can’t tell my left from my right, don’t know how to hold a pencil correctly and don’t even have a real job. Trivia is the only way I can show how smart I am. I swear. I really am!
If you’re good at something, people eat that shit up. And isn’t a first date all about appearing like you’re not a sad person drinking Stag and eating Nutella out of the jar with your fingers every other night of the week?
It’s gotten me laid more times than the number of rings on an archery target!
Image via Flickr.
