I’m really no different from most American middle class women who were raised watching Cinderella and waiting for that “someday” when “my prince will come.” So, there I was in my mid-thirties, and still no prince. I was depressed. I was lonely. I was a loser! All of my friends were married and having kids—what was wrong with me? I had been on so many horrible dates. Why didn’t any of them pan out? I was a fun girl.
In my twenties, I didn’t mind so much. Oh, sure, I wanted to be married, I wanted to start having kids, but I just hadn’t found my prince. I had found a lot of frogs, though. Looking back, it was pretty hilarious. At the time, it didn’t always seem so funny. I’ll never forget the one blind date I had. It was an experience and lesson in humility, to say the least. I had put the word out to people in my church that I was open to being fixed up. One couple I didn’t know very well told me they had the perfect guy for me.
“You and Ken will get along so great. He goes to my sister’s church,” the wife-half of the couple told me.
I made plans with them. We were going to triple date with my friend’s sister and her husband. He would have a couple he knew, and I would have a couple I knew. What could go wrong with that? I showed up at the designated restaurant and instantly saw my friends. As we were talking, the husband-half said, “Ah, there they are now.”
I looked over and saw them approaching. The first guy I spied was a little Weird Al Yankovic looking, but if he had the same sense of humor as Weird Al, I would be okay with that. This could be a fun night out. The closer they approached, I started to get a sickening feeling in my stomach—What if it’s the other guy?
Alas, the other guy it was. What had I gotten myself into? Either these people did not know me very well or I was more pathetic than I thought for them to say he was perfect for me. Saying he resembled Cliff Claven from Cheers was being kind. He was wearing dress up loafers, the kind my grandpa wore, with no socks (his attempt at being cool?), polyester pants that were hiked up in similar fashion to my grandpa’s, and a cotton t-shirt. He looked and acted a lot older than thirty-one. He had thick, wire-rimmed glasses, the kind your science or math teacher wore. He also had a potbelly like that of a man in his mid-forties.
I’m no Miss America. I’m a little on the short side (okay a lot at five feet) and I tend to weigh about five to ten pounds more than I should. (Okay fifteen, but I’m athletic and carry my weight well.) I’m always described as cute, never beautiful, but that’s okay by me. I didn’t expect Mr. Universe, but I did expect Mr. Normal or Mr. Average.
At dinner, he ordered liver and onions. Who does that on a first date? After dinner, he took out a tongue comb and combed his tongue at the table. Who does that EVER? After dinner, we played mini golf. I am a horrible mini golf player, but I like playing. I beat him by about twenty-three points. How can someone lose to me by that much?
At the end of the evening, we said our goodbyes, and I got in my car to leave. Thank God he didn’t ask for my number or say, “We should do this again.”
I got home and phoned my friend Tammy, and we had a good laugh about the whole experience. We rehearsed what I would say when he called and asked me out again. I knew exactly how I would turn him down and allow him to keep his dignity intact.
On Sunday at church, I thanked the couple I knew for arranging the evening. Then, before I could tell them that Steve was not my type, and there would be no future for us, the male-half of the couple said, “Too bad Steve isn’t going to ask you out again. You were too competitive at mini golf. We could have had a lot of fun double dating.”
What? Him … not ask me out. Hello?? I was steak and lobster to his liver and onions! Besides, it’s not my fault he was more inept at mini golf than me. I was indignant. How dare he not ask me out again? What was wrong with him? Thankfully, before I could say something really stupid, I remembered, I didn’t want to go out with him anyway.
Still, it would have been nice to be the one rejecting him.