Blind Dates - the classic moments.

Two blog posts in one day? Yep. Go figure, I'm in a writing mood at the moment. I was just reflecting over some AMAZING blind dates I've had. I always felt blogs were more for married folks - a place where they can brag about their hubbies and kids. Well, married friends ... get ready to be insanely jealous of some epic blind date moments.

Scenario number 1. I'd like to entitle this experience as "WTF"

I suppose this doesn't quite qualify as a "blind" date, as I met the guy briefly (about 8 seconds) before he asked for my number. (Don't worry about it ... I work fast.) I was playing the piano as a musical number in my ward, and Billy* spoke during the meeting. Precious, right? Yeah - we'll see. So, Billy came over to me after the meeting and we did all the cute little introductions. ("Nice piano playing." "Really? Thanks. Uh, nice talk.") Great beginning to a story, right? Right. Eventually Billy got my number and I skipped off happily. Oh, did I mention? Billy was hot. So, Billy called a few days later and asked me out for the weekend. Happy? You bet. Stoked? Oh yeah. The weekend FINALLY rolled around and Billy came and picked me up. As we start driving, he asks if it's okay if for dinner we do a BBQ with his fam. I'm thinking, okay, it's a little strange to meet the fam on the first date, but what the hey. He's cute, I like a good burger just as much as the next gal - let's do this thing. So, we get to his house and there are like 13 kids running around all over the place. Gotta love the fleet of little brothers and sisters. I get my plate and burger and sit down on the couch in his basement, chatting happily with Billy and any family member that happens to approach. Things are going great - until .... the family dog wanders in front of me. Side note - I love dogs. I have a dog. But this dog looked a little retarded. It had goober eyes and stunk and just looked gross. So, the dog is walking in front of me and starts making a really, really weird noise.

"Is your dog okay?" I ask Billy.

"Oh, yeah," says Billy. "He's just old. He does that all the time."

Back to the burger. Billy and I are happily chatting when, not five minutes later, the dog walks in front of me again and drops over dead. DEAD. He ceases to live. Am I lying? No. The freaking dog is dead right in front of me. What happens next? Complete chaos. The litter of children see the dead family dog and run to it, screaming, bawling, pulling their hair out. Billy picks up the dog, bawling, and they all run upstairs. (Remember, I love dogs, right? Okay, just so we're clear on that.) Sooo ... I am sitting in the basement, wondering what in the world just happened, wondering how my life could get any more bizarre. How long do I sit, you might ask? Oh, don't worry - about 45 minutes. Yeah. No big deal. By myself. In a strange house. Nada to do. Eventually Billy comes back downstairs and his eyes are totally red from crying. I feel really bad. Total awkward situation. So, I expect him to say something along the lines of, "Hey, sorry that this was way awkward. I apologize. I'll take you home and we'll do something another time." Well guys, apparently that's too much to hope for. Billy says, "Sorry, my dad and I are going to bury the dog in the mountains. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Um ... WTF.

Yeah, don't worry, I sat in his basement for another HOUR. Am I an idiot? Probably. Billy comes back home and I'm thinking that we can FINALLY get this date started when he says, "Okay. I'll take you home, now."

Really? REALLY??

So, Billy takes me home and I never hear or see from him again.

The end.

*The name has been changed to protect the privacy of the idiot - er, individual, and because I've actually forgotten his name.

Scenario number 2 - "What are you? Five?"

Here's another gem. I got set up on a blind date and we decide to meet at Chili's for lunch. I've decided that I love lunches for blind dates because if things go really retardedly, you can bail after a quick meal that you don't even have to pay for. Nice, right? So, I meet the guy at Chili's and he has his hair dyed red. Crimson. Not the color of a natural red-head, but red like blazing flames on the side of a ghetto truck. Ugly, right? But whatever, I figure I'm getting a free meal out of the deal. The guy and I sit down and the waitress takes our drink orders and comes back with my Dr Pepper. Love me some Pepper. So, the guy proceeds to unwrap his straw and then - oh yeah, no worries - he shoots the wrapper in my face. I sit there. Did that REALLY just happen? Don't worry, he puts the wrapper back on his straw and does it again. And again. And again. I'm sorry, is there something wrong with me? Is the universe conspiring against me to give me the gayest guys in the world? Possibly. Needless to say, never saw the red-head again. Thanks, buddy. Try again.

Scenario 3 - "I wanted to eat my arm."

Another set up. Great. Yeah, people have really strange ideas of guys they think I'd want to date. So, this guy (Matt. Hey, there are a lot of Matt's out there, and I don't care if someone does know this guy, he's a retard.) picks me up around 7. In preparation for this date, I choose not to eat anything because 7 is a time people pick you up to get dinner. Am I wrong? No, people eat at 7. Don't worry that we don't eat anything the whole night. In Matt's infinite wisdom, he decides to take us to that race car driving place way out in BFE by Tooele or something. So, we're standing in line, signing the liability forms, so you know, if I break my face open or something, I'm not going to sue the place, and he turns to me and says, "You know, you better have fun, because this is really expensive."

Huh. Okay. Did you REALLY just say that?? And no, he wasn't joking. Trust me. I checked for the sarcasm and ... NADA. So, I just mutter something unintelligible and continue to fill out the waver. Once we're done and in another line, he asks, "So, are you a good kisser?"

Oh no, you just didn't ask that. But ... YEP. He did. I was so shocked I just sat there for about 18 seconds, wondering if I should kick him in the groin or something else that would be good. I honestly don't remember my response, but I'm sure it was something like, "Yeah, I am. Too bad you won't find out."

The racing was actually fun. It was a rush. I had to wear one of those full-face helmets that smelled like barf, but it was still fun. Afterwards, and my stomach is already growling, he decides that we're going to go back to his place up in Bountiful and watch a movie. During the movie, he proceeds to try all the little flirty ways to scoot closer. Pathetic. Really. It was. He was such a gomer. Once we finish the movie and I'm ready to eat my arm, he says, "Hey, do you want to watch another movie?"

Idiot. No, I don't want to watch another movie. I want to eat. And I want to never see you again. So, I did the next best thing to hitting him. I told him I wanted him to take me home. When I'm hungry, I get REALLY cranky, so the whole ride home (from Bountiful to Draper) I did not say ONE word to him. Nope. Notta one. Do realize how long of a drive that is? We pull into my driveway and he goes to get out of his car to walk me to the door, but I stop him, say "thanks" and just run out of the car and into my house. Was I rude? Um, no. This creep was a jerk and an idiot. I ran to the pantry and gorged myself to the point where I couldn't sit down properly. Good times. Good times.

I've got loads more, though these are a few of the classics. Perhaps I'll post more in the future. Yay for dating.