Everyone remembers their first blind date. Some learn from the first and vow to never again enter the hell that is the blind date. Others, simply file the first experience in a dark, cobweb-covered corner of the mind and slyly deny having ever been forced to partake in such demeaning tactics, since they are far too fortunate to ever need setting up by a friend. Then there are those who went through the hell, but need occasional reminding.
Usually crafted by a scheming friend determined to take responsibility for your pathetic love life, the dreaded two words enter your otherwise peaceful, albeit *somewhat* pathetic existence: Blind Date. The chunks rise up in your throat, sweat drips down the base of your neck, as your friend animatedly carries on and on, making the whole ordeal impossible to refuse. You try to say no, but an unfamiliar, almost gargled, "N-n-okay," escapes your lips. Idiot.
My first blind date was with a mute...or at least that's what I thought. He. Never. Talked. I found myself babbling about everything and nothing just to keep the deafening sound of crickets out of my head. About the only sound he made was when he reached the end of his drink and began slurping it through the straw. Ah, five minutes of not having to talk...I could just listen to the caressing sounds of slurping. I was about to call my friend and ask her why she would set me up with someone who didn't speak, when an older, handsome stranger asked for my number.
Hmm. He is a stranger, but he is: Man--check. Handsome--check. Talking--double check.
Suddenly, I heard a deep sigh from behind me.
"I guess I'm not lucky in love."
Shocked, I turned to find my silent movie date moving his lips and hanging his head. So, he's just shy! I politely refused the handsome-talking-stranger-man, and returned to my date...where he didn't talk the rest of the night.
After that one, how could I even think about entertaining the idea of another blind date? Oh, but I did. This time around, he knew how to talk...a lot...non-stop, in fact. My voice was never heard. Oh, and I have a wealth of information I will never need, including, but not limited to: all of his ex's bra sizes and hair colors; the size of his dog's genitals; the difference between Crest and Colgate toothpaste; and how much better he has it than someone named Frank. I must have looked like a bobble-head doll.
With a slight case of vertigo, I exited blind date hell, never to return again. I did, however, return with a valuable piece of advice. Should you ever succumb to the curse of the blind date, be sure to ask your friend: a. If the man can talk, and b. If the man can shut up.
UPDATE: Since I wrote this quite late/early, I figured I needed to add a few thoughts:
1. Silent man was a very shy guy. Turns out, he was seriously introverted.
2. Not-so-silent man loved himself a bit too much. Oh, and he carried a mirror in his pocket, so he could check the status of his hair.