Instant karma?

More than a few years ago I was on a first date. 

It was one of those unusual situations when everything was going absolutely perfectly. 

Everything. 

I was in that space where I could do no wrong. She thought my conversation engaging and my jokes hilarious. We were both enjoying a wonderful evening out and I could tell that she was very happy to be with me.

When we arrived at her place to drop her off, she asked if I’d like to come in for a drink. 

“Of course,” I said suavely.

Yes, “suavely.” At this point in the evening, I was incredibly impressed with myself. 

Why not? Everything I said was spot on. Everything I did was just right. 

I could do no wrong. 

I was on top of the world. 

In my mind, I was exuding a level of charm that George Clooney could only dream of.

I imagined that she saw me as the perfect date. 

No, the perfect man. 

I was sure that she was consumed with desire and that passionate lovemaking was minutes away.

As I casually walked her up the path to the front door, I noticed an unpleasant odor. 

It smelled like a tuna and liverwurst sandwich that had been left in the sun for a week ... and ... it seemed to be getting worse. 

Odd. 

I wondered what it could be.

As we reached the porch, I debonairly made my move for the first kiss of the evening ... knowing that I was master of the world and that she would melt in my arms.

But the stench.

I looked down and saw that I had stepped in and was tracking a huge pile of dog poop.

Very suave. 

Very debonair.

Life has a way of reminding you not to get too impressed with yourself.