Blind date #1: Double-dipper.
And we’re off. Wednesday April 6th, 2011 was my first official blind date of the “process”, and in fact, ever.
It was set up by a friend of mine from work. A week prior to the date, at about 5 in the morning, I had just woken up for some reason, and I headed to the toilet, sat, and logged on to facebook. He IM’d me saying he had a date for me, and in my half sleep mental state I said: “yes! send him my way”. I went back to bed.
The next day I checked my inbox and I had a name and a number. That was basically all I knew about this guy, and all I would know until I met him. I replied asking what I was supposed to do, surely I wasn’t just going to text a complete stranger and say: “hey! you don’t know me, but wanna go on a blind date?” My friend then asked for my schedule and set the date up.
On that fateful Wednesday, I woke up, met a friend to get our nails done, walked around soho for a bit, and then headed to work. I was at the gallery obsessive-compulsively hanging some art work when I realized the time, I was running late! I rushed to the bathroom, changed into my carefully predetermined outfit (black pants, black Sperry’s, a black Neil Barrett sleeveless tee, and a grey Band of Outsiders blazer), downed a mini bottle of liquid balls (a.k.a. J & B) I had purchased earlier, opened my umbrella (to bring in the good luck), and with the blessing of my peers, headed out the door. Then I received a text from my date saying he was running a bit late. No biggie. I arrived at the spot we agreed on, a somewhat cute thai restaurant in soho with a witty name, and waited outside. Another text came. He was running even more late.
I went inside and sat at the bar. The bartender, a beautiful, model-esque (like most people who work at restaurants in trendy New York neighborhoods), black girl with a sultry accent, and an alluring personality, asked me what I wanted. I asked for her suggestion. I ended up with a tamarind martini. As I sipped on the deliciously tangy concoction, we made small talk. I was slightly nervous for my date to arrive and introduce himself in a cliche: “Hi are you my (insert my name here)?” manner. I didn’t want her to know I was on a blind date. Sure enough, he walked through the door and did as I had prophesied.
First impression: if there was a romantic comedy where two guys meet for a blind date, he would’ve been exactly what I’d expect to see in such film. A couple inches taller than me, blond hair, blue (maybe green) eyes, wearing brown shoes, dark jeans, a Ralph Lauren sweater over a polo shirt, and a puff jacket, all in “safe” colors (navy, green, brown). I’d say he was moderately handsome, yes. Read the rest of this entry »
the.applied.process. 