The Date was Blind, Unfortunately I Wasn't

This weekend, I read Tucker Max's book--I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell.  He also has a website and is a self-proclaimed asshole.  The thing about people who admit to being assholes is that they very rarely underestimate themselves.  But he is an excellent writer and hysterical and I'll take asshole over dullard any day.  Except maybe Thursdays. I really recommend checking him out (although it's not for the easily offended) and then after you read his stuff, my cruelty to unattractive people won't seem so bad in comparison.  Also, check out Mein Kampf.  Because, really, I come out smelling like a fucking rose after that.

I've been on two blind dates in my whole life and one of my big fears is that Husbandrinka will leave me and I'll have to go on a third one.  Because things happen in threes.

The first blind date was when I was in high school. It didn't go well, although he was handsome and paid me the highest compliment that I'd ever received. He told me that I looked like Linda Evans. Why a fifteen year old girl would find it complimentary to be compared to a post-menaupasal tv star with immovable hair isn't clear to me right now, but back then, wow.

But this is about blind date number two, when I was approximately 24. The one that my mother set me up on with her friend's son. A friend that I've never heard of before or since. Over the years, I've tried to think of a conversation that must have preceded this decision:

Mama: My Marinka is still single. Everyone else's daughters are married and have children. Why am I so cursed?
"Friend": It's different now. Women want careers. She's still young.
Mama: Young? HA! She's in her 20s. When I was in my 20s, I already had my Marinka. Maybe that was my mistake. Having a baby so young. Maybe God is now punishing me with an unmarried daughter.
"Friend": Don't talk like that. She'll meet someone.
Mama: I doubt it.
"Friend": But Marinka is so beautiful. I've never seen her, but she is your daughter.  Is she a model?
Mama: She is a model of single. I am so unlucky. Woe is me. Do you know any single men?
"Friend": Well, my son-
Mama: Perfect!

It was not love at first sight for "Dave" and me. We met at my favorite Thai restaurant in SoHo and I know that I'm a very shallow person and that appearances are not everything but as soon as I walked into the restaurant and saw him, I immediately started dialing convents, because if THAT is what was out there, the vow of celibacy would be like a cool breeze on a stiflingly ugly summer day.

The fact that we were incompatible, however, did not seem to deter him.
"How do you feel about moving to New Jersey?" he asked me at dinner.
"Why?" I treaded cautiously because depending on where he fell on the issue, I was either relocating to the Garden State or petitioning for NJ to secede from the union.
"I don't see myself raising a family in the City," he told me. "There's pollution, and the crime rate. I think New Jersey is a much better environment for kids."
It took a few terrible seconds for me to realize that he was talking about the two of us raising a family together. I may have had a mini-stroke at that point or passed out for a few moments, because the next thing I remember was telling him how the last thing that I wanted was a family, how my career was my life and that I'm glad that we got this out of the way before things progressed "too far" between us, neglecting to mention that by "too far", I meant the second course. The only problem with my speech was that I was unemployed and had no goals besides "do something amazing", but whatever.
He inquired about my career.
"I'm not sure what field I will pursue," I told him, looking around the restaurant for inspiration. "Something in the beer industry."
"Beer industry?"
"Yes, beer. I love beer." I ordered a second beer.
"Don't you think that one beer is plenty?"

Things didn't improve. With the exception of both being members of the same species, we had nothing in common. By the time he ordered desert, I felt as though I'd undergone an emotional cliterectomy. At the end of the evening, I was fully prepared to die alone. Hopefully within the hour.

Breaking News! I just asked Husbandrinka if he ever had a blind date and he said "I'm not really remembering specifically" which means "Yes, and I am still in love with her."