Well, At Least I didn't Scream in his Face

Quick funny story--
The other night I was out on a pseudo date with a friend of mine. He works in town every summer and we've gotten to be fair chums. The first summer I met him, I found him frustrating because he liked to talk about his high school accomplishments, but now that he's attending a very prestigious Ivy League school for a great grad program, he's dialed back. Somewhere over several years, he grew up and into a nice guy.
Last summer, we went camping and rafting and all that jazz. We were grand confidants as we muddled through our respective, massive relationships (which both ended badly, unfortunately). But we kept up with one another and all was well.
This summer, nearly all our attempts to spend time together were foiled. Road trips here, break-in there, we're too tired, we're too busy. I felt a little guilty, but this is one of those convenient friendships where the relationship has stood the test of time and many miles, so one doesn't worry too much.
Friend moved today. We knew this was coming, and while we couldn't get any time in to watch episodes of "Faerie Tale Theatre," we thought we could at least go out post-FHE for a drink at Sonic. It was fun. It was normal. We talked about all kinds of things-- like me visiting him in Boston and what we've done this summer and what we wished we'd had time for and blah blah blah. For whatever reason, he always likes to talk about kissing. We tend to have divergent styles-- I find myself launching into kissing, but I've changed my ways. I'm much more selective in my old age (and by old age, I mean beyond 26 and 27, my high-quantity kissing years). Plus also, I'm in a pseudo-relationship with another boy that involves periodic kissing. It's still very undefined (which I'm happy about), but it is significant enough that I think twice about the other boys who take me out. Friend, on the other hand, has always been VERY conservative, and said he really liked to spend a lot of time getting to know a girl before ever kissing her. I mentioned the other night how I really admired that and it was something I'm trying to emulate. But we also discussed how being too restrictive can lead to problems. I illustrated this point by relaying the unbelievable fact that I never kissed a boy at the Brigham. I started out with good intentions, not wanting to kiss any old Joe, but how I really moved into a socially-awkward stage, ruled by my bussing phobia. The height of this handicap most dramatically manifested itself when on a date one night with a WONDERFUL guy, I managed to really muddle things. The boy in question tried to kiss me three different times throughout the evening, and I managed to scream in his face each time. The first time I thought he was making fun of me. The second time I thought he was just kidding. By the time I ran screaming from his arms in my living room, I began to clue-in that fella might actually have legit feelings for me. Oops. We didn't go out again. He's happily married now.
Anyway, sorry about the long exposition. The heart of the story with current friend at hand:
After a very brief visit in the Sonic parking lot and quickly polishing-off my Diet Cherry Limeade, we made our way back to the FHE building and parking lot. Our mutual friends were all driving away as we pulled in. We had scarcely been in the parking lot for two minutes before a very socially-awkward young man (the non-tipper, if anyone is paying that much attention) drove up to my car in a futile attempt to step into the role of hero. I rolled down my window, and he rolled down his. He asked if I were OK. Without skipping a beat, I lied (mostly because I thought it was funny, but partially because it would be awkward enough that he couldn't stick around pestering me). I said, "Oh yes. We're making out. Thanks for checking in though."
"Really?!" my frazzled, would-be hero interrogated.
"Yep," I said cheerfully. "We're doing super-well, so have a great night!"
He drove off puzzled.
This would be a greatly funny story, IF the next bit had not occurred.
As I laughed at my own wickedness, I turned around to see Friend's arm around me and him leaning in! And I laughed some more.
"What in the world are you doing?" I chortled.
"Um, heheheh (fake laugh). Is he looking, is he looking?" Friend attempted to cover.
And that's when I realized that he was actually going in for the kill. And I accidentally laughed some more.
At that point, we politely said goodnight. He said he'd always been happy to be my decoy (and he'd been a handy one, I must admit). No kissing. I laughed at him. I didn't even mean to. It all came out of nowhere! But at least I didn't scream, right?