“So Why No Boyfriend?” This is Why.

I woke up at an ungodly hour this morning to a splitting headache, my clothes on the floor, a pair of spanx scrunched in a ball on the couch, and a half eaten sugar free jello sitting by my sink. (Remember, I live in a studio. My bedroom is also the kitchen and the living room.) Good God, what did I do last night? Why does my head hurt? Ohhhhh, three vodka sodas on an empty stomach. Why did I do that? Right, the blind date.
Yes, I went on a blind date last night. Do you want to know more? Get ready.

So several weeks ago, a dear friend of mine who is practically my big sister called me. “I have someone to set you up with.” Oh, really? Do Tell. “He’s adorable, really cute, says he’s single. I told him about you, and he’s interested.” Great, let’s set it up. She promptly introduced the two of us via email, a friendly email banter developed, and we decided to set a date for drinks.

I’ll admit, I did not have great expectations for this date. I mean, it’s a blind date after all. If anything, it’s a new person to get to know, nothing to get worked up about. However, my friend (who is married) kept reminding me, “I have known you for years, and I have not set you up once, and it isn’t because I don’t want to. This is the first person I have ever met that I thought was worthy enough to date you.” She had a point. She never has set me up, and I trust her opinion on just about every aspect of my life: work, shoes, clothes, furniture placement – why not men?

However, I started to have doubts yesterday afternoon when I ran into a mutual friend of ours and told her about my soon to be blind date. “Oh, she set me up once. He was nice, but he showed up at my house one night unannounced wearing a homemade cut off tank top.” Oh. Dear. God. That’s completely unacceptable, and honestly, I’m more offended by the tank top than the unannounced drop by. Never a good look. Ever.

On my way over to the bar, I realized I had not eaten anything since 1:00. I ran into Au Bon Pain, looked at the cookies, and against my better judgement, decided against it on the basis that it was a waste of Weight Watchers points. I would later find out, big mistake. We agreed to meet at 7:00, and I got to the bar at 7:02 thinking he would be by the front door. He wasn’t. I looked around the bar – the only men drinking alone were either graying or had ponytails. Please say that’s not him. I quickly blackberry my friend, “He doesn’t have a ponytail, does he?” Um no. Ok, I’ll just keep waiting. And I did. I even whipped out my blackberry, pretending to have some major crisis at work where I need to be blackberrying up a storm, when really I was just emailing friends saying, “still not here.” Finally, a young, very attractive guy walks in. I approach him.

“Jack?”

“No.”

“Oh, sorry.” (Ugh, so embarrassing.)

“Looks like you’ve been stood up on a blind date.’

“Huh?” (Can this get more embarrassing?)

“Ha! I’m just kidding, yeah, I’m Jack.”

That Guy.

You can’t be serious. Oh my God, He’s that guy. I’m about to have drinks with that guy. Do you think he rehearsed that line 10 times in front of the mirror before he came over? Maybe he was purposely late just so he could use it as the “perfect opener.” Great. Time to get drunk. Drunk with that guy.

 
We take a seat at the bar, order drinks (vodka!), and start the biographical segment of the date. He’s from the Midwest, went to a very prestigious college, and now works in finance. “Well, I’m a political fundraiser.” “Really? I know nothing about politics. I barely read the paper.” Ok, making statements like this might have been cool in high school, but when you’re 28 and living in Washington, DC, you just look like an idiot. While I’m a political junkie to the core (if you could only see my library), I don’t expect everyone to have the same working knowledge of campaigns and elections that I do, especially someone who doesn’t work in the business. I’m not about to start a conversation regarding the latest NBC News/Wall Street Journal poll or Barack Obama’s chances of winning Florida, and I don’t blame a guy for not being interested either. However, I do ask that you have a basic knowledge of, say, American Government. I ask that you know we have elections every two years (he didn’t know this) and that you remember John Kerry was the Democratic nominee in 2004 (he didn’t know this either). If there was ever a case of looks only getting you so far, this was it. I later found out he went to his prestigious college on a football scholarship. It all makes sense now.

So do you make it home much? “Yeah, I mean I go home for weddings and Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.” I nod and think, “Of course you’re Jewish. You are one of my constituents.” “Ha! Just kidding! No, I’m not Jewish. I go home all the time, you know, for Easter, Baptisms, Christmas because I’m not Jewish. Ha Ha!” Did he just make a joke about being Jewish (to a stranger, no less)? Are you really that politically incorrect? Of course you are, you’re that guy!

After the biographical segment of the date ended, we take a sip of our drinks and have that 10 second “what do we talk about next?” silence. He speaks.

“So, why no boyfriend?”

Um what? I don’t know! Because I’m a raging lunatic? I also don’t know why the sky is blue or how traffic can back up for miles when there isn’t a car accident in sight. It’s just one of the great wonders of the universe. Seriously, are we having this conversation? I’m about to throw back at him, “Why no girlfriend?” when he says, “Yeah, I’ve been seeing this girl in Boston.” Hold on a sec, you’re not single? “Yeah, I mean I just don’t see it going anywhere. Boston is just not driveable. You have to fly to get there.” I nod as if this is a completely normal discussion to be having on a first date – a discussion of why I don’t have a boyfriend and how he just might have a girlfriend. Why are you telling me this? Also, why are you even here? Should I be blocking out the weekends you’re going to Boston now? “I’m sure she sees other people.” Oh yeah, I’m sure she does. Keep telling yourself that. Men.

After my third vodka and his fourth bourbon, we called it a night. He had to “go meet his buddies at the Nats game.” At 10:00 at night. Were the Nats even playing? I don’t know. I think (or hope) at that point all the alcohol and lack of food hit me, and some serious drunk emailing and dialing occurred. I called my friend who set us up. Possibly all of Dupont Circle heard me say the following things over and over again, “He is dumb as rocks!” “He asked why I didn’t have a boyfriend!” “Ok he was hot! I would have sex with him but that is it! I would never date him!” She apologized, but also said, “Well, I’m glad it didn’t work out because I met someone else tonight I want to set you up with.” I can’t wait.