Fake it 'til you make it

I love trying new things. Skydiving. Check. Filming in war zones. Check. Kissing Adrien Brody. Check. (That dream sure felt real.)
So when I got offered a free spray tan, I was like hellz yeah. Always wanted to look like Paris Hilton and now was my chance. Plus everyone else seems to be doing it and I hate being left out.
I was a fake tan virgin and it was time to pop my white skin cherry.
So I thought today was the perfect time because I had someone special I was meeting and so I would be bronzed and fabulous for when this happened.
Now like an episode of How I Met Your Mother I have to take you back a few years.
In my early twenties I worked at a cafe. Fun place and my first full time job. Next door to us was a sports shop where many a spunky boy worked and there was one guy in particular who I often spilt my milkshake over (metaphor? Totes). We crushed hard over each other but nothing ever happened.
So when I ran into him this morning totally out of the blue it was a bloody great surprise and then when he asked me out for an early dinner I pulled out the hellz yeah all over again.
I had the perfect dress but needed the perfect tan to go with it. So dashed off, got my naked on with funny little panties and twirled with joy as I was sprayed with my secret weapon for my hot date.
I have to say by the time I left my house I was looking bloody great. Already my tan was starting to show and I barely had to put any make-up on because my face was bronzed. I was an instant fan of this spray tan thing and could understand why Paris made sure she still had hers done even when she was in jail (never know who you may meet in the shower).
So me and Crush Boy met at a cocktail bar, had a few drinks and caught up. Yes he was single. Divorced actually. Yes he was still cute as and all I could think of was that this time there was no way we were not going to follow up on our crush.
Now you all know where this is going because you have all had a spray tan before (slight exaggeration of course but there are many of you screaming at me as you read). Because apparently in my virginal spray tan state I did not know that you do not go out on your first day of getting your tan. I vaguely remember reading that somewhere, maybe in Paris's memoirs but I didn't know why.
So we are sitting there and Crush Boy is starting to look at me weird. He asks if I am feeling okay. I say I feel faaabbbullloooouuuus (because I did). So we continue to chat and I wonder what our kids will look like when he asks again if I am okay.
So now I am confused. Why does he keep asking me that? So I excuse myself and go to the bathroom.
As I sit on the toilet I ask myself if maybe he is the one? After all these years could it be this guy that I have been waiting for?
Then I look in the mirror.
I look like Vegemite. BUT ONLY ON MY FACE.
I am sure I am blushing with sheer mortification but I am so dark I can't even see it. Given I am normally as white as Nicole Kidman I am one freaky looking chick.
I realise if I go back out there with my skin brewing like coffee and spend any more time with Crush Boy I may actually turn into the ace of spades.
So I do what any reverse Michael Jackson skin girl would do and sneak out the back door. And before you ask no I don't have his number, no I don't know his last name and yes I am a dickhead.
Guess Crush Boy isn't the one.