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After playing 1-on-1 soccer in a field on a date (yeah... I'm just that big of a dork.), about an hour after I've dropped the girl back off and I've already driven myself home, I realized that I didn't have my pocket knife on me. I realized I must've dropped it when I was running around out there.
I've had this knife since freshman year. I've warded off a few would be attackers with this thing. It's cheap, starting to dull again, and oh, did I mention that it's raining like hell outside now. But being the sucker that I am for holding on to things, I go out looking for the bastard...
I get there, and realize that this field has an area of roughly half a mile... the knife on the other hand has an area of about 3 inches closed. Realizing I'm screwed, I go on looking anyway. Roughly half an hour later, soaked and cold, batteries dying in my big ass 3.5 million candlepower flashlight, I spot an area of depressed grass. Hoping that this won't be the 17th time that I've gotten excited only to find a piece of dog crap, I walk over and there's my knife.
Slightly giddy from acting so ridiculous and from having finally found the son of a bitch, I get in my car and drive home. On the way home I decide to pick up some stuff. (groceries, gas, etc.) I get home, unload my stuff, and, exhausted, start undressing for bed.
The knife wasn't in my pocket, any of them. The next morning when I checked, it wasn't in the car... It was gone again.
If I ever find that damn thing I'm gonna purposely dull it against a rough rock for causing me such frustration.
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