While watching The Apprentice tonight (No, we don’t really watch The Apprentice for reals. Who still watches The Apprentice? Depressing people. People who watch NCIS and According to Jim, and shows like that. Who are these 50 million viewers watching these shows, and where do they live? Wyoming? Arkansas?
“Hey Gerald, there are very good shows, and mediocre shows, and very awful shows on T.V.. They’re all free to watch, but I think we should pick a category and stick with it, so which do you want? Well, Darlene, I don’t really know, let’s just go with the very awful ones and do that.”
Anyway, we don’t “watch” watch The Apprentice but tonight we got to watching NBC’s Comedy Night, and then became t.v. paralyzed, and The Apprentice was next. “Oh, the next show on this channel is the Joy of Painting, with Bob Ross. Ok, well I’m already on this channel and my body is t.v. paralyzed, so.” Please note, the parentheses are ending now.), I pulled out my computer to write my post about blind dates and asked Reba if she had any bad blind date stories.
“I’ve never been on a blind date.”
I’m not sure how that can be true. You have all been on blind dates, right?
Although now that I think about it, I guess it makes sense. She went from high school—where you don’t do blind dates—to BYU, and we got married right before finishing school. So she was never in one of those places and times of life where people think to set other people up on blind dates. And in my 3 years at BYU I don’t think I went on any blind dates either. There was no need. It would be like giving a salt water swimming pool to a bottlenose dolphin that lives in the middle of an ocean. But for those of us who did any time at commuter schools, blind dates were just a part of life. Well-meaning aunts and sisters’ friends, whoever, were always on the lookout for you.
I’ve written before about feeling like my dating options at Weber were more or less limited to a few exotic dancers and Estonian exchange students, and those Estonian gals would probably tell you that their only options were a bunch of lurpy dudes from Davis County who didn’t get into BYU, weren’t interested enough in farm science to go to USU, weren’t hot enough to get into UVSC (yes, they used to have a physical rating system in the application, of questionable ethics, but effective nonetheless. Unfortunately all of that went away when UVSC became UVU and started receiving it’s funding from the state instead of Wet Seal.) and apparently had never heard about University of Utah, because why would you go to Weber if you were just as close to the U?
So during my Weber years, I was set up on a few blind dates. One was actually great, and we ended up dating for while (the girl for whom I set the temple marriage date up, just in case, without telling her, until she got the confirmation letter in the mail the next week. Don’t worry about it.)
A few of the blind dates were decent, and a few were just miserable. One girl basically refused to talk, and was giving one word answers. Weirdo with a capital W. So after a few hours of Herculean efforts, I decided I was done, and just stopped talking. We were silent for 30 seconds or so. She finally became uncomfortable enough to pipe up with something lame. I gave a short response, and so on.
Another girl, within the first 10 minutes of the evening, enthusiastically declared “I practically LIVE at the Institute building! I’m there all day long just hanging out! I LOVE IT!” Oh no. 6 hours to go.
On 90% of these blind dates, you’re the one who’s more disappointed in the other party, rather than vice-versa. I know that math doesn’t quite seem to work, but it means that there are a few people out there–bless their hearts–who are always having their expectations exceeded by every blind date. They’re having the time of their lives on these blind dates and can’t believe their good fortune in having every single date be with someone way out of their league. But on rare occasions, you quickly see that you’re the one who has brought the let down with you to the doorstep this evening. Your date answers the door and is beautiful and normal and you think “Ruh Roh.” You’re on the even sadder side of the blind dating equation, which you’re not accustomed to. I knew a blind date was disappointed in me when I accidentally took a sip of her drink instead of mine. I told her, smiling bashfully, and she made a disgusted face and said “Eeewwwww,” so I got her another drink. I don’t know, she was a cosmetologist and maybe they’re more open with their feelings because they talk to women all day long. Can’t say I blame her though. How would you like Matthew McGrory taking a big slimy suck on your straw? Hmm?
What’s your worst blind date?
(P.S., remember how I was saying the Mormon Bachelorette’s cameraman must be interested in her? Done and done.)