It’s precisely 8:27pm when I am escorted out of the restaurant. I’m calling it: this is the last blind date I’ll ever have. Reluctantly I remove the contact lenses and fake beard as I walk to my car. It was all a very bad idea from the get-go: asking my friend to set me up with one of her friends, making sure she made me look like the biggest catch the world could offer, and finally actually attempting to be that person.
There is a fatal flaw in blind dates: no one wants to go out with a person who has to rely on blind dates, but when the person that sets you up tells the date that you’re a little less broke than you are, but a lot more muscular and intelligent, there might be a problem. And tells her about a beard I couldn’t grow if I tried.Weiterlesen