Ten Things To Do On A Blind Date
August 12th, 2006
Are you incessantly plagued by well meaning friends and siblings who are desperate to see you walk down the aisle? Desperate to see you leave the comfort and safety of your snug little lounge room? A snug little lounge room that you have slaved the better part of your life to fill with little treasures, creature comforts that reflect your work-a-holic slavery?
My twin sister (who strangely resembles Dirty Harriet on any given day) has got it in her head to find me “The Love Of My Life“. Only her unrelenting enthusiasm to find that holy superior Super Man has, strangely enough, bypassed vital input even from me. I shouldn’t grumble; Harriet’s only looking after my welfare. But damn it all - it would make for a nice change if she actually asked me what I like in a Man.
Firing my hormones, clearly, has dilly-squat to do with racing me down the aisle because there I was, minding my own business, snug as a bug inside my snugg-a-licious lounge room when the phone rings. Dirty Harriet. She’s eager to tell me she’s secured a date for me - a date I didn’t even know I wanted. My brain suddenly clouds because under all that sweeping, mile-a-minute effervescence remains one stinking word:Secured.
Like HE’s some sort of heathen criminal out of day release. Worse - a rabid animal that needs to be cornered and muzzled, possibly even drugged. Bet HE didn’t want the fucking blind date, either.
Sigh. Fine, I say. But this is the abso-friggin’-lutely LAST blind date I’ll ever agree to. Dirty Harriet humphs! Mumbles something about “Not Being Grateful” and hangs up. So, here is my list of things I’d love to do - but wouldn’t dream of doing for fear of finding the barrel of Harriet’s Glock burning into my forehead - while on a Not Wanted, Not Requested, Not Fucking Hormone Firing Blind Date:
- When your Blind Date introduces himself, call him by any other name bar the one he came with
- Remark how untidy the interior of his car is (even when its pristine clean), then force him to stop at a 7/11 store so you can buy disposable gloves because you have this “Cleanliness Phobia”
- On the way to the restaurant, ring Aunty Augusta on the mobile phone and instigate a 3 hour conversation about Uncle George’s prostate problems
- Discuss dream wedding gowns in microscopic detail
- Allude to the very real possibility that Insanity is rife in your Family
- Between courses, lean toward your Blind Date and whisper that your female eggs (ovaries) are hyper-fertile, and even thinking about sex will make you pregnant
- Giggle incessantly, even when silence prevails
- Make repeated off the cuff snappy comments that befuddle even you
- Convince your Blind Date that you are really, secretly, Royalty (next in line to the Darcan Throne), and you’ve been placed into Royal Protective Custody because there’s been numerous attempts on your Royal Hair Tongs. Naturally, if he wants to live he’d best keep his mouth shut
- Refuse to step over cement cracks in the pavement because, really, “Black Holes” do exist. Duh!
Subscribe to Comments via RSS Feed