I went on a blind date two weeks ago. It was…interesting, to say the least.
About a week earlier my Uncle called me up and asked me to do him a favor. One of his friends had a granddaughter that recently moved into town and she didn't really know anybody. Obviously, he wanted yours truly to take her out and show her around town. Since I owed him a favor (well, probably several favors considering that I mooch off of them constantly) I grudgingly accepted, silently praying that she wasn't a hideous she beast. Shallow? Me? I think so.
It was up to me to call her up, introduce myself, and ask her out all in one foul swoop.
After several minutes of unsuccessfully pondering what to say I picked up my trusty cell phone and dialed her digits. Immediately after I introduced myself I realized that she had no idea that someone would be calling her. This put me in a particularly peculiar position but I charmed my way out of it nicely…either that or she pitied me enough to play along. I made plans to pick her up the following Friday and sighed a sigh of relief when I hung up my phone.
On Friday evening I dressed in a pink polo shirt, a pair of distressed jeans, and my blue and white Roos (the awesomest sneakers ever made). Needless to say I arrived at Amy's (my blind date) house looking like my usual preppy self. A thin girl with chestnut colored hair wearing a halter top met me at the door. I amazed to find out that she was Amy; she looked very young for a twenty-three year old. She looked jail bait young.
We ventured to a small coffee shop first because it was too late for dinner but too early to go bar hopping. After ordering we sat at a small booth talked for awhile. It turns out she is an occupational therapist and blah, blah, blah. It only took me a half of an hour or so to realize that she and I were almost as compatible as Ron Jeremy and Mother Theresa.
However, she seemed like a really nice girl and I found her somewhat interesting, so I agreed to go bar hopping with her after we finished our coffee like drinks. It was fun at first. And then she got drunk, really, really drunk. I don't know how she got so drunk. I didn't buy her many drinks and she certainly didn't buy her own. She was an affectionate drunk, and in a very short while her hands found their way underneath my polo and her lips maneuvered towards mine. To be fair to her, I did kiss back, after all she was cute and I am me.
After a short little make out session I excused myself and went to the restroom, when I came back I noticed that Amy was so drunk that she was having a hard time keeping her balance. I decided it was time to call it a night.
"I think I should take you home."
She feigned embarrassment and said "Charlie, I am not that easy!" Then she kissed me and led me outside. When we reached my car she leaned against the passenger door and looked up at me for a kiss. Instead I grabbed her waist, picked her up, and sat her on the roof of my car. Then, with as much fake bravado as I could muster, I opened the door like a professional chauffer. Luckily, she giggled and hopped into the front seat.
Her language during the first half of the car ride home was pretty X-rated, but she fell asleep (or rather passed out) so I luckily managed to get her home without crashing my car. I carried her into her house and put her on her bed, then woke her up to make sure she was alive. She seemed alright so I headed home. When I got back to my place eighty percent of me felt fairly noble…the other twenty percent cursed myself for not going after a sure thing…damn my penis and it's mighty hold over my conscience!
