This week I went on, not one, not two, but three blind dates.
No, he wasn’t blind. Maybe I was.
But I went into it with my eyes wide open…or wide shut.
Either way, I can’t even beg the excuse that I was coerced into it, because I wasn’t. I would love to pretend that I was lost and consequently found myself in a field of aliens who then kidnapped me and released me near some restaurant where I was forced to have dinner with someone I didn’t know, aka a blind date.
Truthfully, that excuse seems more plausible than the raw truth that it was I who willingly and lucidly agreed to meet a complete stranger for a date. Anyone who tells you that a blind date is no big deal and that you have nothing to lose by going should be shot. Blind dating in and of itself is an overwhelming physical, emotional and personal investment where the odds of winning are low and the risk is high.
So let me just take a moment to say kudos to myself for the blatantly noticeable improvement in the choosing of my blind dates. I asked all of the right questions. I read and re-read their profile. I searched for signs of weirdness, psychopathy and I even checked to see whether or not they were the type who would be paving the road to my own personal dating hell with all of their good intentions. I was thorough, damn it.
I really tried to look for compatibility, mutual personal and spiritual goals and a similar personal status to mine (no more child-bearing for me people because my baby shop is closed).
And even with all of my oh-so calculated preparedness and my well thought out methodology for picking a date that would lead to be my life partner, I still walked away thinking to myself that I must be crazy. What on earth possessed me to give up a chunk of my scarce and oh so precious free time (love my free time) for the mere prospect of meeting someone I don’t know, have never met, with zero mutual friends and whom I only chatted and spoke with once on the phone, all with the hopes that this one might just be Mr. Right?
Could it be even remotely possible that in our world of skepticism, rampant single-hood and the increased need for self-fulfillment that we may still be great big suckers for that thing called love? Besides the possibility of being abducted by aliens, this may be the only logical explanation for the slew of modern day dating torture we are willing to endure just for the chance to feel what it is to love and be loved.
To be fair, both my blind dates were lovely people.
They were respectful, intelligent, attentive and nice.
They just weren’t for me.
You see that’s the thing about blind dates, due to socially acceptable dating etiquette you really need to sit with someone for an extended amount of time even if you truly knew within the first few seconds whether or not you wanted to ever see them again. In real life situations, you would have realized that they weren’t for you within moments of meeting them. The problem is that in these circumstances, the first time you are meeting them is on a blind date.
Disclaimer: I have personally met some amazing people on blind dates, many of whom I am friends with to this day and who I never would have met had it not been for our mutual dislike of, um, certain body types, our yay (not nay) for Jewish princesses and the understanding of why it’s so amazing to drink everything out of a straw. So yes, even if our overall ability to be each others love thing wasn’t gonna happen, at least our paths had crossed for the better.
Summary: Thank you to my blind date victims who were party to my blind date whims, the men without whom this could never have been made possible and who were willing to go through everything I did, maybe even more, just to be able to to be an active part of our chance meeting.
Guys, thank you for a wonderful evening, really, but can we just be friends?