Now I usually don't do hookups. They hardly ever work out and I'm left in an awkward position afterward. The first, and last, blind date I had was a hookup. The dude was older and I assumed well established. I'm safety conscious, so agreed to meet him at our destination. He waited until the day of to disclose the location. Well, the general vicinity. He gave me the cross streets of where we were to meet and the time. This was his idea of surprise. This should have been my first red flag.
However, I played along and made it to the intersection clearly confused. It was a shopping strip with Target, a liquor store, a couple clothing stores, a shoe repair shop, a buffet, and movie theatre. Nevertheless, I parked and waited. A two-tone 2-door 1997 Grand Am pulls up beside me. The body was white with a fire engine red hood, trunk, and rims. The interior was dark brown leather with red accents. Neopolitan paint job, sir? The driver is a short thin dude dressed in heavily starched Guess jeans and a button-up. Yes, the old school Guess jeans with the upside down triangle logo on the back pocket with creases that'll cut you. Taco meat is peeking out of his button-up too. I just KNOW this isn't my date. I roll my car window down half an inch and ask, "G?" He smiles crookedly and nods. No, this can't be life.
We proceed out of our respective rides and start walking toward...Old Country Buffet. He must have noticed the vicious side-eye I'm giving because he hurries to explain. "This is my favorite spot to eat. You can't beat the variety at this price. I knew if I gave you a heads up, a classy lady like yourself wouldn't agree so...surprise!" I can't believe I got all dolled up for this fuckery. The mean girl in me wanted to get back in my car and drive off. Yet, I stuck it out. We walked in and much to my dismay, it was like an episode of Cheers. Everybody knew his name! Apparently, he wasn't kidding when he said Old Country Buffet was his fave spot. Later I discover it was also his first job.
I won't trouble you with the details of how much fried chicken, mac-n-cheese, and brown-and-serve rolls we ate. The conversation during dinner was grueling. We had nothing in common. Plus, I was still in shock. Fast forward to the end of the blind date and we're saying our goodbyes. I give him a half-ass hug with a tap on the shoulder. We get in our separate cars. I breathe a sigh of relief, buckle up, and scramble for my cell so I can call the friend who set this up. Then I hear the faint sound of an engine that won't turn over. Low and behold, this dude's pimped out Grand Am won't start. He asks, "Can you give me a boost?" Without waiting for my reply, he reaches in the backseat and grabs jumper cables. Whaaaaa?! The fact that he keeps jumper cables in the back seat lets me know this is a frequent problem for him. The mean girl in me kicks in. I shake my head no and drive off.
Looking back, all I can do is share, learn, and laugh. Thank goodness for music and the opportunity to blog about it. Speaking of music, happy birthday to Detroit's own: Aaliyah. Her lyrics have truly gotten me through dating woes and celebrating the single life of a young woman in her twenties.
