Blind dates and dates that aren’t

I think it’s safe to say that I am now officially through with blind dates.

After all, I am usually the only one blind on the date because chances are that the other person has some kind of acquaintance with me through the media. It is, I have decided, an unfair advantage.

I washed my hands of blind dates after one in Louisville, Kentucky.

“You’re going to kill me,” my friend, Deb, said when she called my hotel room. I was in Louisville for a speaking engagement so we had made plans to dine together, along with her husband.

Deb had a friend, recently divorced, who asked if he could join us. “I didn’t commit,” she continued. “It’s up to you.”

Since I am an eternal, undying optimist, I agreed. Though I have never gotten my hopes up over such introductions, I am of the opinion that you never know when a prince rather than a frog might appear.

The guy was nice enough but halfway through dinner, I realized that something wasn’t right. The only time he glanced in my direction was when I was bold enough to interject myself into the conversation.

“How was your date last night?” Karen called to ask the following day.

“Terrible. I could recommend a good book on flirting to him. Do you know that he did not ask one question about me all night?”

Two days later, I found out why he hadn’t asked when Deb called.

“Steve is furious with me,” she reported. “He said he was in over his head because he didn’t know you were so well-known.”

“How would he know anything about me?” I retorted. I was still plenty aggravated over his rudeness to me. “He didn’t ask anything.”

“He googled you before the date.”

Google. There we go again. I’m always getting googled. It’s an unfair advantage. No wonder the guy didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t need to. Thirty minutes on-line and all mysteries were revealed.

But once upon a time, I did have a great blind date. Perfect blind date, in fact. It was in the pre-historic times before googling had been invented and before, if it had been invented, that I was google-able. Aw, those were the good ol’ days.

I was set up with a guy that his friends called “attractive and nice.” The same words they used to describe me to him. Now, anyone who has ever been on a blind date knows that “attractive and nice” translates to “average and bland.” In other words, don’t get your hopes up.

When I answered the door that evening, I was speechless. There stood the most beautiful guy I have ever seen. Tall, lean and muscled with stunning blue eyes and a mop of silky blonde hair that curled quite nicely on the ends. He looked like a movie star.

His eyes widened. “You’re beautiful,” were his first words.

I blinked hard. “You’re gorgeous.”

Superficial, yes. But every woman, at least once in her life, should have a blind date like Bobby O’Hoppe show up on her doorstep. That first date was followed by another, then another, then another. Then I – and it was all me – let the most perfect blind date ever slip away.

Gee, I wonder where Bobby O’Hoppe is now. Maybe Google will know.