A blind date:
I didn’t know it was a blind date. I hadn’t expected that. I thought I was just going for lunch to a friend’s place. I should have known. People were always trying to set me up with someone.
“He’s a really nice guy!” one friend had told me earlier this year about a guy she’d wanted me to meet.
If nice included being into drugs and sleeping with everything that was breathing (or possibly not) in the city, than I wasn’t sure I wanted nice.
This time though I had assumed it was all old people going to the lunch. That’s what I’d been told anyway.
When I walked in, I knew straight away. It was old people, except for the young man standing awkwardly by the kitchen bench looking like he needed rescuing. I felt sorry for him, but I didn’t, ‘rescue,’ men anymore. They needed to do that for themselves. So I made a point of ignoring him.
He looked about 22 anyway which at my age was jailbait as far as I was concerned.
I made my way over to the drinks and was immediately set upon by my friend.
“Oh, you made it!” she said.
I smiled weakly. I knew what she was building up to.
“Say,” she began, but I cut her off.
“Look, I appreciate that you think I need someone, but A. I can find my own someone and B. I want and need someone a little more mature than Mr. Teenager over there.”
She stood looking at me for a second and then laughed.
I was glad she wasn’t offended, but I didn’t understand why it was funny.
“No, silly,” she said, whacking my arm. “That’s my daughter’s boyfriend!”
I suddenly felt very stupid.
Why was I so defensive about everything? Why did I assume that everyone wanted me to meet someone?
But then she said, “There is, however, a guy I’d like you to meet…”
Always trust your gut instinct, I thought to myself. It was never wrong.