COLUMN: Easy to strike out in dating when blind-folded
So I finally decided to talk about it. “They” say that talking helps you move on. Who are “they” anyway? Teachers, the government, health experts, Greeks? The world may never know, but that is beside the point. Regardless of who said what, I am going to try this standard piece of advice and let these awful memories out.
Every time one of these particular dating opportunities arises, I think to myself, “OK, Loo, just give it a shot. Maybe this one will be different, maybe this one won’t be a 30 year old, a twangy air-headed cowboy or an ambition-less, minimum-wage earning young man.
Every time this happens I try to look on the bright side, maybe normal people get set up on blind dates too, it happens, right? I mean look at me, I have been on plenty of blind dates and I am completely normal …”
OK, look, stop laughing. Maybe I am not completely normal – I do write a very honest dating column in The Utah Statesman – but doesn’t that make me extraordinary? Shouldn’t I be blind dating other extraordinary people?
I guess that all depends on your definition of extraordinary and the people who set you up on the dates definition of that particular adjective.
Well, in my case, whoever sets up the date always seem to define this word wrong, and just to clarify, I did set myself up on one of these dates in a way. In my life, I really can be my own worst enemy.
But, in defense of my awful decision to set myself up, I think we all have this optimistic Hollywood-esque perspective on blind dating. I think we all want to live the “You’ve Got Mail,” scenario where Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan set themselves up over the Internet on a blind date and it just happens to work out magically. I must suppose that I have a Meg Ryan aura about me, because I did this same stupid thing.
For my last column I got hundreds and hundreds – number may be slightly exaggerated – of fan e-mails and five or six date invitations, even though I specifically said in the dating sucks article last month, that asking people out over e-mail is bad.
For most of these date invites, I politely skirted around the topic of a date, but one in particular seemed very sincere and complimentary toward me and really, really wanted to take me out. I couldn’t resist the idea of someone being so madly in love with me after only reading my article and had to find out if it was possible that this person could be a James McAvoy and not a Michael Scott. What was the worst thing that could happen? The date could go badly, I could have one of the worst nights of my life, I could gain yet another stalker to my all too scary and full list or he could try to murder me on our date.
On the flip side, what were the very slim chances that maybe he could be my knight in shining armor? The odds were too good. I just had to take this chance and say yes.
I know, I know, what in the world was I thinking? Who in their right mind – I am obviously in my left – would ever accept such an absurd, crazy proposition? In the world we live in today, where people meet 50-year-old psychopaths off of MySpace, how could I have ever accepted?
Well I did, and the rest is history. I am still alive and you all have the intense pleasure of hearing about my awful experience on your dreary, school-filled Monday morning.
It should be noted that I have censored this date and have not included names or too many details that would link it back to the person I dated. This is also the Reader’s Digest version of my date and is severely watered down in content. Pieces of the date have even been entirely left out, but that is what you get when you are writing on a word limit. The entire account of this date could easily fill an entire spread of The Utah Statesman.
So, back to the story. My initial reaction to this overly zealous e-mail was to ignore it, but something compelled me to respond. I decided I would play the safe route and opt to meet at the Quadside for a cup of hot chocolate before one of my Friday classes. This way we could meet and I could see if I had hit the jackpot or if I had crapped out, which occurs in most gambles.
Unfortunately, he was unavailable to meet at that time and suggested we go out Saturday evening. Now I was caught. I had already made contact, he was already planning on meeting me, I was stuck and found myself on a bonafide date.
Well, Saturday arrived and I finally met my secret admirer. Without going into too much detail, he was not a James McAvoy. He picked me up at 3 p.m., and we decided to go golfing.
In all honesty, golfing was fun. I love golfing because it is something I can be competitive at and I love competition. I love people who challenge me.
After we went golfing we went to go eat dinner, which is where things started to get ridiculous. For the entire date this kid had been agreeing with me on everything I said. I felt as if my identity were being Xeroxed before my eyes. There was no way that we had everything in common, so, in my slightly ticked-off state, I decided to test him.
When he asked me the next question, “What kind of movies do you like?,” I responded with, “I hate all movies, except for chick flicks. I won’t watch anything else.” Absurd and ridiculous statement, right? What guy in their right mind would agree with that? Well, he replied, “I see where you are coming from.” “No, you don’t.” I wanted to yell across the table.
Next he asked me if I liked sports, I replied, “I think sports are a canker on the academic institution.”
Not only did the question and answer session continue in this ridiculous manner, but I started spouting ridiculous political opinions at him, trying to exaggerate to the very left side, my liberal wing ideologies. This didn’t seem to bother him either, he too, coincidentally, agreed with all of my socialistic policies and ideals.
After dinner and a brief, awkward drive up the canyon, he dropped me off at my apartment and drove away. I had been in my room for about 10 seconds when my phone buzzed.
It was a text. How quaint. I slid open my phone to reveal the following message from our uncouth friend, “So, how do you think that went?”
I am an honest person. I tell it like it is. I spent the next 10 minutes explaining to him, that I had a very fun time, he was very nice and polite, but that I did not have any feelings for him in that manner and would be declining a second date.
He accepted this and I was relieved. The world could go back to normal … for three days.
Yes, three days after this date, I received the following text message, “So I’ve been thinking, and I decided that I don’t think it was fair that you judged me like that after one date ‘cause really, how can you know if you have feelings for someone after one date? So I think I deserve one more chance because I am a good guy.”
I was blown away. Sending something like that takes nerve. Well, I spent the next hour, yes, hour, explaining to him that it would not be fair for either of us to go on a second date, it would just be a waste of our time, because I knew already that I would never be able to like him in that manner.
He persisted to pester me and when I wouldn’t give in to a second date, began to get angry. He said I was a mean person, that I hold men to impossible standards, and that I will end up sad and lonely in life. I laughed, then replied that he probably shouldn’t text me anymore, in fact I insisted upon it.
So, James McAvoy? I think not, and, this is only one of my awful blind date experiences. I have never had a good blind date, I can’t recall hearing of anyone who has had a good blind date experience and yet I maintain hope each time a new blind date opportunity arises that I will finally get my Meg Ryan moment.
Are we as humans sometimes too naively hopeful? Is it foolish of me to believe that one day I might be able to have a romantic evening that can compete with the best fictional creations Hollywood has to offer?
Despite striking out several times with the blind date method of finding love, I refuse to give up hope that I could meet someone spectacular. Karma owes me big time in this dating category, and I am sure one day the universe will reward me for the vast amount of bad luck I have encountered.
So, yes, in answer to the question on your mind, I will continue to blind date in the future.
I don’t know what my next blind date holds in store for me, but I do know one thing: I would be willing to bet very good money that it will be exponentially better than the one I just had.
Lindsay is a junior majoring in broadcast journalism. She is consistently hopeful that one day she will meet a hunk as good looking as James McAvoy. Questions or comments can be sent to her at lindsay.anderson@aggiemail.usu.edu