For my 28th birthday, I went on a blind date with this chick my friend Dave described as “sarcastic, but sweet.”
Let me tell you, I have never been the dating type. As a result, the attention of females seemed to avoid me, lurking around the corners of high school hallways, waiting in shadowy cubicles. I give off this relationship stench, noxious fumes of despair and apathy brewing in my soul.
I would rather spend my bday with a paper shredder than to go on a blind date (a shredder is brutally honest, making waste to all in its path with ease and without comment). Women just hide behind facades. Women leave you guessing what they feel. Some may seem dramatic but that is only to hide what they truly feel behind those outward histrionics. Some women are like eggs with unbreakable shells, they are just filled with yellow goo, but act like they have more to offer.
To start the big birthday day off, my mom called me. ”Happy Birthday Daniel. It’s your mother calling. I feel like we haven’t talked for awhile. Please call me back. I Love you.” Good thing voicemail answers all of my calls. My mom has talked to voicemail more than she has talked to me over the past six years. I bet she has grown fond of the sweetness found in voicemail’s voice. Voicemail has a knack for listening and understanding.I should probably tell you that I decided to shut off contact with my family at the ripe old age of 22. I think that is the last time I went on a date too. Shit. I can’t believe is has been that long. I go on dates with tax audits not tax auditors. I spend my nights in bed with International Tax Law books, but can’t find an international to tax me between the sheets. I’ve closed myself off in a lot of ways.
But what the hell, I figure maybe I am tired of being lonely. Maybe I am tired of hanging out with shreds of paper confetti made from last weeks misfiled tax forms. Maybe this girl Dave describes as blond athletic and outgoing might dig me out of me.
That night before going to Go-Go Marias, a tapas bar in Oak Brook, I ate a full meal consisting of a medium rare steak and a 312 wheat beer. I wanted to eat something in case my date fled in terror or if I got sick of her and decided to get up and leave. I couldn’t go through the night hungry that would just make me more angry at the world. But like I said, I am willing to go on the date to help me find me.
Our reservation was for 6pm party of two awkward singles meeting for the first time. I decided to leave my apartment at 5:45 pm to make the 10 minute journey. Her name was Britney. Her occupation was Dental Hygienist. I couldn’t wait to meet her.
As I drove to the restaurant, rain fell, gluing droplets to my windshield. I picture Britney sitting next to me at the table, her voice eating away at my self doubt. I reach out to touch her face, but the closer my hand gets, the more she fades into nothingness, sitting in a nowhere chair. “Please!” I scream into her face shrouded by the darkness of my self loathing. “Take me out of this place! I don’t know why, but I know that you can help me. You and you alone.”
I sit in my car, the engine running, rain still rapping on the roof. My hands clench the stearing wheel and my feet are firmly planted into the floor. The car has been placed in park. My mind brought back to focus by the car alarm going off next to me like a crying baby in the cold of the night.
My clock reads 5:55. Right on time. I smile, turning the key out of the ignition, straightening my shirt collar, and reaching for the door handle. As I push out towards the rain, I feel the drops drain the blood from my face. I think I see Britney standing by the door wearing red high heels, the one article that distinguishes her amongst the rain. Did I mention I love a woman who can pull off wearing red shoes?
