She was a freshman at Arizona State. She was a Kappa Alpha Theta. He was an older frat boy from Kappa Phi. He asked her to go water skiing with him.
“I don’t know how,” Linda said.
“No worries,” said Phil. “I’ll teach you.”
Phil picked her up and took her to where he kept his ski boat. The two of them went out. He got her into the water. She didn’t know how to swim, but she didn’t tell him that.
Phil tried to pull her up, over and over again. Linda wasn’t getting it, was nervous, and scared.
Forty-five minutes later, she was exhausted. Phil was ticked off. He had failed as her instructor. He pulled her back into the boat, put it into drive, took her back to shore, docked the boat, led her to the car, drove her back to the KAT house, dropped her off, and left, all without saying a word.
Phil never called Linda again, all because she couldn’t water ski.
Couldda Wouldda Shouldda
If Phil would’ve given Linda a chance, she would soon realize that he was used to having things his way and that if he didn’t get things his way, he would turn into a two year old.
“I should’ve stopped with the first date,” Linda would say every time he would throw a hissy fit.
Sometimes our dates do us favors when they reveal their personalities right away. It saves us lots of time and sorrow.