s M*A*S*H ed

Let me tell you about a guy I really liked.
He was a wrestler at my high school, and very scrumptious to the eyes. He asked me on a date to his ward's etiquette dinner or something, so yeah. Kinda awkward. But I've had worse. I got my cousin to go with his best friend, and they were all meeting at my house.
So, first thing: His friend drove them both over in his huge truck with "HUNTER WRESTLING" in big, bold letters across his windshield. I was, at the time, living in Kearns, and as they walked into my house this one (and only) afternoon, they began to be a bit condescending and rude, saying things like, "Yeah, with my truck saying 'Hunter' on it, I was afraid we were gonna get shot at in this neighborhood." Gee, thanks, I do live here, you know. And for the record, I've never been shot at.
Later, at the dinner table, we were all making pleasant conversation, when the subject of M*A*S*H came up. It turned out that I was the only person in our group who wasn't a mash-zombie, and when I made the comment that I wasn't a fan, my date promptly explained to me that I was free to leave. Er, okay...if you'll pull my chair out for me while I get on my merry way.
If you hadn't noticed, I don't like being insulted.
Despite all that I decided to ask him out for a second date, to which he replied, "My mom won't let me date the same girl twice in a row."
If you're telling me the truth, your mom is weird.