I remember my first date back in high school. As first dates go, it wasn’t so bad. OK, it was pretty bad. What was supposed to be a solo date turned into a group thing with the other two guys in the Geek Squad tagging along. One minute I was spraying Obsession on my awesome Kirk Cameron button down shirt-skinny tie combination wardrobe thinking about how I’m going to be French kissing my date and other stuff like that, and the next minute my two dorky buddies were in the backseat of the car singing Milli Vanilli a cappella. That’s what I get for bragging to them about having a date with a girl who wasn’t inflatable. She didn’t seem to mind, though. Plus, these two guys were such dweebs that they made me look cool in comparison. And that wasn’t an easy feat back then considering I had a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure hanging on my rearview mirror.

We got to the restaurant before I choked the poor man’s Air Supply in the backseat. I was in suave mode by this time, and I even pulled the seat out for my date to sit down. I then proceeded to order something on the menu that immediately didn’t agree with me. I spent the remainder of the dinner in the bathroom. That was awesome. Still, it got me some pity points with the girl. That washed out pasty white complexion that accompanies salmonella tends to provoke that kind of response in chicks.

After I halfway recuperated from the botulism soufflé, we made the drive to the movie theater. I had chosen an Oscar caliber film in advance of the date, A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child. With this cinematic gem in play, I knew that I would be getting some action. One of my friends tried to bogart the seat next to my date. I told him that I was going to sit by a girl no matter what. If he wanted me to surgically transform him into one with my car keys, I could oblige. He took the next seat over. The movie was all right, nothing special. My date did get freaked out a couple of times, prompting her to grab my arm and hold on to it. I still remember how that felt even after almost twenty years. Sadly, the movie had to eventually end.

On the way home, Dumb and Dumber went into a diabetic coma in the backseat from ingesting too many Sweet Tarts during the movie. I figured it was time to take it to the next level, so I brought out the big guns. I pulled out the Paula Abdul cassette that I kept hidden in the center console. Paula had a hit song at the time, so I figured that having playing the tape would tally up some cool points in my favor. We both hummed along to “Straight Up” and “Cold Hearted.” We shared a moment there on that drive home. It was sweet.

I dumped my pals off at the Hardee’s where they had parked when we got back to my home town. I tried to run them over, but the nap they’d gotten had refreshed them enough to jump out of the way. I took my date home, which unfortunately was only about a three minute drive away. You might be wondering why I didn’t drive around a bit before taking her home, taking advantage of our precious alone time to get to know her better. That’s simple: I’m an idiot. Anyway, I walked her to her door. After a few pleasant words, she hugged my goodbye. I went home. A week later she got back together with her boyfriend. I never went out with her again.

There are many possible reasons for me not getting some love that night. It could be that my two nerdy friends killed the mood. It might be that my pseudo food poisoning was a turn off. Either one of those reasons are valid. But I know that truth. It was the Paula Abdul tape. I pulled out the “big guns” when I should have employed the use of a nuclear missile. Because right next to Paula in the console were the latest releases by Bon Jovi, Poison, and Warrant, not to mention the REO Speedwagon greatest hits cassette. Any one of those tapes contained the greatest make out weapon ever devised: the power ballad. And I knew this! I can only surmise that my blood sugar was low as a result E. coli special that I got at the restaurant.

The power ballad, with its sappy romantic lyrics and chick-friendly keyboards, is an instant checkmate in the chess game of love. No woman alive can withstand the likes of “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” or “Livin’ on A Prayer.” The opening chords of “Love of A Lifetime” actually make women ovulate. It’s been proven in double blind clinical trials. Look it up.

Paula Abdul indeed! I deserve to never kiss a girl again for making such an obvious mistake. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I have kissed a girl since that night. Wow.

Anyway, the point I’m trying to make here is, when used correctly, the power ballad will get you some lip action. It’s a certainty. Now I listen to power ballads alone. I actually listen to two of them at once using a vintage Emerson dual cassette deck. I guess I’m subconsciously trying to OD on power ballads. Is that even possible? I am starting to walk around pouting and posing while wearing colorful doo-rags to conceal my thinning hair like some of the 80’s hair band singers. Can you die from that? It’s more likely somebody will just beat me to death for looking so lame. Whatever, buy a shirt and make me feel better. Thanks.

Power Ballad Power T-shirts and Gifts