Anyone who has ever gone on a blind date would agree that it is one nerve wracking experience.
The fear of meeting a total stranger, who might turn out to be a total psycho, is one of the worse feelings in the world.
Being the single guy that I am, my friends would often arrange dates for me. This has gone on for ages.
My first blind date stands out the most.
It was with a college chick.
My friend said, “Dude, call her. She’s fine.” That’s exactly what I did. We became phone pals and later when we got comfortable, we set up our first date. I hurriedly told my friend about it.
“Hey, she’s no babe. She’s butt ugly,” my friend finally confessed.
This was the night before our big date. I wanted to kick my friend in the nuts.
Apparently, he thought it would be hilarious if he set me up with Frankenstein’s sister. My friend laughed his ass off.
I was punk’d. Big time.
With no valid excuse to back off, I showed up at my date’s school the following afternoon.
Minutes before we met, I heard girls scream from behind. Then, she appeared. At that time, words failed me.
She took my arm and said, “Hwag kang bibitaw. (You’re not going anywhere.)” I obliged.
Despite her physical misgivings, she was funny and generous. She paid for lunch.
Like with most dates, I called her afterwards and said how much fun I had. We never saw each other again.
Post script: The friend who introduced me to her is now dead. Someone pushed him off the stairs. Urban living is dangerous.