Sunday, October 11, 2009

Date 7: CrazyBlindDate

I have never been on a blind date. I've been on set-up dates before, but never a blind date. But I wanted to try something a bit outside the box so to speak, so I signed up for this website called CrazyBlindDate.com. The name tells you pretty much everything you need to know.

You fill in some very general information (your name, your height and build, what you're looking for in a date, etc.) and the website sets you up with someone based on your preferences and the time you're free. A half hour before your scheduled date, you receive a text message that supposedly allows you to contact your date. You don't get to see what the other person looks like until after you've gone out with him or her.

You can imagine how this situation can go awry.

I set up my date for a Monday, because at least if the guy didn't show up or was a complete freak, then I wouldn't have wasted a weekend evening that I could have spent more enjoyably.

The whole day at work I was a nervous wreck. I kept imagining every possible horrible scenario that could cause this idea to be the worst one I had ever had in my life. Murder, rape, vomit, laughing strangers, spilled drinks, acne, and bad breathe tormented me as the clock ticked closer to 8 pm.

I arrived a bit early and sat at the bar. I had brought a book with me, which I proceeded to read by the dim candlelight. There is a reason people go to coffee shops and libraries to read. I once saw a dude reading Heidegger at a bar on a Friday night. He had a book lamp and a beer. Remembering how I had proceeded to call him a dork, idiot and retard before my friends pulled me away, I stuffed my book in my purse and looked around instead.

Besides me the bartender, a lovey-dovey couple, and a rather surly-looking man watching the Mets game were the only other living beings in the bar. Outside, a man was pacing back and forth across the sidewalk. He kept checking his cellphone as if waiting to hear from someone. Guessing that this was my date, I texted the service -- which had promised to forward my message to his phone. A minute passed. And then two. And then four. Fearing that the service hadn't done as it had promised I decided to go outside and ask the dude if he were indeed meeting a girl named Echo.

Sure enough, this nervous-pacing-guy was my date. He was dressed in a suit and had glasses. Not cool glasses, just glasses. For the first ten minutes I imagined how I would change his style so that maybe I could be attracted to him.

He bought me two drinks and I was very talkative. Mostly because I was sort of unsure how to get out of this situation. I could tell he thought I was pretty (mostly because he said so) and that he thought we would be a good couple (because he said our star signs were compatible) but unfortunately for him, I didn't see it the same way. My eyes wandered to a couple hot guys sitting next to us and I hoped he didn't notice.

Every time I got uncomfortable I took another sip of vodka tonic. Not a good idea. Eventually, we left because we both had to work in the morning. He asked for my number and I gave it to him, saying disingenuously that I'd like to go out again. I knew I wouldn't answer his calls/texts, but it is hard to say no to someone's face. It is so much easier to give a guy your number and hope that he felt the same way and was just going through the motions for politeness's sake. This does not mean that it's the right thing to do. He went in for a goodbye hug, I went for a hand-shake. Awkwardness ensued.

My goal for my next date: tell the guy I am not interested to his face and don't give him my number.

I swear I'm not a pessimist.

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