Un Peu de Jupon

I went on some sort of quasi-date last night with a French girl. Although it was fun enough, the sparks weren't exactly bursting out of the seams, and I made a fair amount of blunders which shattered my cool facade. Example:

Me: Oh, your last name is German?
Her: Yes, it's a family name. My grandfather actually fought in WWII on the German side.
Me: Ha, well, we all make mistakes.
Her: Huh?
Me: Err, I mean, no, I'm not insulting your grandfather, just...
Her: No, I mean, I literally didn't hear what you said.
Me: Oh, uh, that we all make mistakes.
Her: You mean in general, or my grandfather fighting for the Germans?
Me: Uh, both, I mean. Yes, in general, but also...fighting for the Nazis, yes. Mistake.

This was followed by a lot of incomprehensible mumbling on my side and uncomfortable laughs. I am never, ever going to reproduce.
However, I have another quasi set-up tomorrow with a girl named Eve (insert biblical joke here). I figured that with my American accent and the right-colored skin-tight shirt, I couldn't go wrong.
Then I woke up this morning with some kind of eye problem that looks like pink eye. I don't know what girls like, but I would guess that puffy, red, gooey eyes aren't high up on their list, right behind "a good sense of humor."
I repeat: I am never, ever going to reproduce.