As I looked in the mirror, it occurred to me that this was the first blind date I'd ever been on. I've heard the term a million times, but does anyone really go on blind dates anymore? This certainly wouldn't be the first date I've been on, or the second. I've never counted them, that's a pretty interesting thought in itself.
Let's see what the numbers say. Ok, I've been dating for half my life, give or take, about sixteen years roughly. Take away the two serious relationships of about six years, counting the one that lasted four years that I just got out of, which leaves ten years. How many dates a year on average? Not every week, but twice or three times on a good one. Ok, about sixty times a year, divided by the same girl. That would be about fifteen different women a year for ten years, pretty simple, about a hundred and fifty first dates. Divide that by three, to account for all of those times that were never really a date. Now we're getting to serious numbers, fifty.
So at thirty three years and change, I've been out with between forty to sixty different women. This is brilliant, and probably why I'm not married yet. I have to make every thing make sense to me. I over think every little thing, I'm so fucking predictable. Why the fuck did I let Marshal talk me into this blind date? That answer was all too clear; he wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed, "Come on Tom, you got to get out more, live a little," he kept telling me.
Marshal is, maybe was, after tonight, a good friend of mine. We have worked together since right after college. We were hired on at the same time, and trained together. I'm a little more work oriented than he is, so he works for me now. His wife, Penny, came up with the idea of me dating her friend, and of course Marshal thought it was a great idea, he's so pussy whipped. The only thing I know about tonight's date is she's younger than I am and her name is Lynn.
I don't like being so pessimistic, but I can't seem to shake the habit. "Well, let's go get the night over with, in three or four hours I can put this whole thing behind me," I thought. Maybe then Penny and Marshal will quit trying to find me a soul mate, as if.
Feeling like a school boy, I drove to Lynn's apartment. I have to say, the whole anticipation thing was peaking my interest. So with mixed emotions, I hesitantly knocked on the door. I don't know what image you have conjured up in your mind, but for what ever reason, I expected a medium sized sweet looking girl with dark hair. What do you think?
Lynn was tall, even for a man. I'd say about six foot, maybe taller, and long flowing blonde hair. I introduced myself, and handed her the small bunch of flowers I'd bought to break the ice. Lynn accepted them graciously and nonchalantly set them aside, I could have saved myself the twenty bucks by the looks of things. Lynn grabbed her coat and we were off.
What do other people do on blind dates? I chose a movie, at least that way I'd have something to watch if we were going to spend a few conversation-less hours together. Well, we at least had that in common, silence. It was so thick you could feel it. I asked Lynn to choose the movie, "probably some chick flick," I thought. Well, again I was wrong, she picked a horror film. We were so doomed, this would be one of those nights I'd spend a year trying to forget.
I hate horror movies, but the popcorn was ok. And to tell the truth, the movie wasn't as bad as I'd feared. At least Lynn seemed to enjoy it, the frown she'd been wearing wasn't quite as pronounced as we left the theatre.
I dug down deep and asked, "So, what type of food do you like?"
She gave me a smattering of her huge vocabulary, "Spicy."
She was making me work way too hard here, "Thai, Indian, or Mexican," I asked.
"You decide," was her response.
I hated all three, I'm just not too into spicy. I knew of a Thai place that served a decent cheeseburger, so that's where we went. I was trying to be considerate, I let her choose didn't I? Hell, I was even a gentleman and opened her door for her. But I'll tell you right now, if I hadn't been so goddamned hungry, the date would have been over by now.
We were seated at a nice table with a view. The waiter brought our menus and I set mine down almost immediately, I knew what I was having. Lynn must have read every single word on the menu three or four times, it was about forty five minutes before she seemed to decide. The waiter saw her put the menu down and came for our order.
She looked up and him with a smile, "Cheeseburger please."
A thousand expletives ran through my head as I said, "Make it two."
My eyes were shooting daggers at Lynn, but she either didn't care or pretended not to notice. My mother told me once, "If you can't say anything nice, then keep your fucking trap shut," so that's just what I did. By the time our food arrived, it would have taken a chainsaw to cut the tension. I was definitely going to pay Marshal back for this, and he was going to regret it.
After we ate, neither of us made a move to leave. I felt like fleeing for my life, but I wouldn't or couldn't be rude.
Lynn cleared her throat, "So Tom, what's your story?"
"Which story is that, what story are you referring to?" I asked, trying as hard as I could to act civil.
"What made a man like you go out on a blind date?"
Being blunt, I said, "Marshal," with a hint of distaste.
She nodded and replied, "Penny."
"What were they thinking, that you or I couldn't find our own dates?" I murmured rhetorically.
"So, Penny tells me you work for Marshal?"
"Something like that," I answered, trying not to have to explain that I was actually Marshal's boss's, boss's boss.
"And what is it that you do?" I asked, trying to change the subject away from me.
"I'm a photographer," Lynn answered, with a slight smile.
Maybe getting her to talk about herself was the key, "Really? That's an interesting occupation, what kind?"
"Oh..." she hesitated for a moment, "All kinds."
"Interesting," I said rubbing my chin.
