Is it? Is there any situation one would feel more comfortable in if one were blind other than trying on bathing suits in a three sided mirrored change room with florescent lighting? Do they have to call them blind dates? How about amputee dates? Your friends have obviously decided that you're missing a partner the way some people are missing a limb and you need to have that part replaced, even if it's inferior, even if it looks good on the outside but is void of flesh and blood on the inside so that you're just not feeling it, still it makes them feel better.
Why is it that couples are so intolerant of their single friends relationship status? Why can't they just leave the art of matchmaking up to the Divine, or Fate, or Match.com? They feel better knowing that we're not going to be alone on a Saturday night because they've set us up with Bill from the Marketing Department.
We're supposed to be grateful even though we feel like throwing up for the whole cab ride to the restaurant. Some of us simply don't have the stomach for blind dating. Getting queasier, we scan the crowd at the bar trying to spot Bill based on the great personality and killer sense of humor that our friends assured us he possessed. We also look for the red shirt he said he'd be wearing and hope it's not as loud as it sounds. A man approaches wearing a blue shirt. So he made a last minute wardrobe change. Not a problem. I created a Kilimanjaro of clothes on the floor of my bedroom before I finally settled on the coral sweater I'm wearing tonight.
The friends definitely exaggerated the thinning hairline thing, he's got a great head of curls. He's a lot bigger than they described too. So glad I'm not blind. I flash him my freshly Zoomed smile. Gorgeous smiles back about four inches to my left and then wraps his arms around a woman next to me who is not me. A guy in a red shirt, my height, with a receding hairline approaches, smiling just a little too eagerly. This is why they're called blind dates. Cause at this moment I'm embarrassed to admit, I almost wish I was.
Why is it that couples are so intolerant of their single friends relationship status? Why can't they just leave the art of matchmaking up to the Divine, or Fate, or Match.com? They feel better knowing that we're not going to be alone on a Saturday night because they've set us up with Bill from the Marketing Department.
We're supposed to be grateful even though we feel like throwing up for the whole cab ride to the restaurant. Some of us simply don't have the stomach for blind dating. Getting queasier, we scan the crowd at the bar trying to spot Bill based on the great personality and killer sense of humor that our friends assured us he possessed. We also look for the red shirt he said he'd be wearing and hope it's not as loud as it sounds. A man approaches wearing a blue shirt. So he made a last minute wardrobe change. Not a problem. I created a Kilimanjaro of clothes on the floor of my bedroom before I finally settled on the coral sweater I'm wearing tonight.
The friends definitely exaggerated the thinning hairline thing, he's got a great head of curls. He's a lot bigger than they described too. So glad I'm not blind. I flash him my freshly Zoomed smile. Gorgeous smiles back about four inches to my left and then wraps his arms around a woman next to me who is not me. A guy in a red shirt, my height, with a receding hairline approaches, smiling just a little too eagerly. This is why they're called blind dates. Cause at this moment I'm embarrassed to admit, I almost wish I was.
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