Accepting the blind date was my first mistake, but showing up was my fatal one. In retrospect, I should have called and canceled thereby avoiding what had to be one of the most painful experiences I have ever had (and that includes falling on the balance beam in Gymnastics only to have my crotch stop my fall.) The plan was that he would pick me up from work and from there we would go to a baseball game. I figured it was safe, we were in a public place and if all else failed, I could at least watch the game.
By the time 6PM rolled around I was a mental and emotional wreck. I would have been much better suited to lay down in traffic and act as a speed detourant. Of course, as a girl, I did the whole self doubt thing, I second guessed my outfit, my hair, my makeup…everything. My self doubt dissolved into pure anger because my date, Ross (“Hella cute, ex-baseball player who is studying business at the UW") was 45 minutes late. He of course saw no problem with his lack of punctuality and indeed played it off as if everyone shows up to their dates almost an hour into them. To make up for his tardiness he did utter sweet nothings to me upon first sight. He said,
“Man! Thank God you’re not an uggo! What’s up? I saw you sitting in front of the store and I though you were either my date or a really hot hooker.” My mental anguish over the night vanished as I realized that my date had the collective intelligence and sensitivity of a snow pea. Why are people like that are allowed out in public, let alone to procreate is a mystery to me. He had no social grace and obviously no internal filter for his thoughts…at least we were late for the game though.
As it turned out, Ross had decided that tickets to the game were too expensive for a first date and we would therefore be spending our evening listening to the game on his car radio while dining. “Dining” as he put it actually consisted of the drive through at Jack In The Box. My mother always taught me that if someone else is paying and the date is going sour, order the lobster…super sized seemed the only way to go. We drove to what I guess was his frat's equivalent to make out point and he rolled down all the windows, reclined the seats...I couldn’t tell if this was for ambiance or to create the illusion of a soft top. Ross turned up the game far above the decibel to allow for normal conversation and then it occurred to me that this was either part of a well laid plan to completely turn me off because he wasn’t into me and wanted to spare my feelings by making me think that he was a huge jerk…or he was just that stupid. I feared the latter of the two. The date itself turned out to be the romantic equivalent to contracting the West Nile Virus.
We sat in complete silence for about 10 minutes after the game was over. I then decided to call a spade a spade and end this date before anymore fun could be had. I said,
“Listen, this has probably been the worst date of my entire life, let’s just go home, loose each others phone numbers and pretend tonight never happened, okay?” He looked completely dumbfounded (so I guess it would be safe to say that his expression remained the same), started the car, and drove me home. It was safe to say that the date was doomed to failure once he tried to prove that he could fit 4 fries up his left nostril.