Thursday, October 25, 2012

The Blind Date

I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve never done anything like this before. Why did I decide to become so adventurous at the ripe old age of thirty-five? I know awkward social situations spark my anxiety, but did that stop me? No! Am I really this desperate?

Evidently I am or I wouldn’t be in a bar on a Wednesday night waiting to meet a man I barely know. Sure, he sounds good on paper, and on the phone, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure Ted Bundy seemed nice right up until the moment he snatched his victim. 

Oh great, start thinking about serial killers. That’s gonna help calm your nerves. Think about all the good relationships that have started with blind dates. Trish and Alex met this way. You were there, offering moral support while Trish waited to see if Alex was an axe murder. But is Trish here tonight, by your side? No! She and Alex have a wedding rehearsal. 

Who knows if Trish will even talk to me again after I miss the rehearsal? I told her I’d try to make it, that I didn’t think this would take long, but she wasn’t appeased. She wanted me there from the beginning. Well, we don’t always get what we want. I wasn’t postponing this meeting. I’d already worried myself to death long enough. It was time to get it over with.

I wish he’d told me more about what he looks like. Tall, dark hair and blue eyes matches over half the men in the room for goodness sakes. Couldn’t he have said, “Gorgeous with dimples you can sink into,” which would have sent me right to the bar beside Mr. Perfect over there, or “Tall, dark hair, blue eyes and abs you can bounce a quarter off of,” which would have meant he was Mr. Fitness over by the jukebox. UGH! I need more to go on.

Of course, I can just wait until he finds me because I gave a better description. I think I was hoping he’d see me and just slink away and I’d be spared this whole ordeal. Why else would I have worn this ridiculous pink sweater that was a size too small?

I wish he’d come over already. He has to know it’s me. There’s no one else in here with red hair, wearing pearl glasses and a pink sweater. He can’t have missed me. Maybe my plan worked after all. I’ll wait a few more minutes and then head on to the rehearsal if he doesn’t show.

Okay, that’s it, time to leave this joint. I’ve been stood up. Either that or he showed and didn’t like the sweater. Doesn’t matter to me. I just know I’ll never put myself through this again. Not even for Mr. Perfect over there. 

Well, maybe I shouldn’t be so hasty. Those dimples are damn cute…

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