For the rest of my life I will not tell my friends if by some chance I happen to be ‘between relationships’ on Valentine’s Day. It’s not that I don’t appreciate their concern, it is that my friends see my potential mate differently than I do. I know I should feel honored that they see me with an educated, sophisticated, older-man type but their definition of educated and sophisticated is not my definition.
I’ll call him “Dean”, he was the last blind date I ever want to have on Valentine’s Day or on any other day! Dean taught at a local community college, which should make a man interesting, as spending time with young people often means learning new music, picking up on trends, or at least hearing good jokes! It should make one interesting but in his case, it didn’t .
Dean wanted to eat veal (I’m vegetarian.) and talk academics. He wanted to discuss the Bronte sisters and period etiquette, Edgar Allan Poe’s negative affect on the drug culture, the difference between conservative and liberal politics as it relates to the difference between European societies and American and, he wanted to make each of these fascinating subjects as boring and lackluster as possible. After one particularly fascinating factoid (“During the Victorian era it was considered rude to seat a man in an armless chair. A man’s chair represented his status. The most important man in a house had the biggest chair with padded arms. Women had small armless chairs.”) I excused myself and went to sit on a very cold armless ‘chair’ just to be away from his meaningless droning for a few moments. When I returned I swear, he had a different, bigger chair.
Dinner at a family restaurant that played second rate muzak as background seemed to last forever. The movie we were supposed to see had been canceled because the theater had a policy of “five or fewer means no show”, and the unseasonably warm night made it perfect for a long walk and his undivided attention, which was the last thing I wanted. I looked for a place in the path close to the street to fake my accident and ‘slipped’, injuring my ankle to end the walk. While he walked back alone to pick up the car I called the friend who had set us up and told her she was on my ‘bad friend list’ unless she met me at my place immediately.
When we got there, she was waiting. I said good night, apologized for my clumsiness, and thanked Dean as she helped me into my apartment where I changed into heels, and talked her into being my surrogate date for a night of roasted pepper and onion pizza, live music, and dancing. We met some very interesting people and the night was salvaged but like I said, for the rest of my life I will not tell my friends if I ever happen to be single on Valentine’s Day.