December 9, 2020
Back In the Day
“Back in the day, a blind date was a blind date,” I said.
One of the things about growing old is you turn into the type of person who says ‘back in the day.’
I was down on the dock at the cottage with Danna and some of her old camp friends and they were trading blind date war stories. It really was a bit of a joke.
To begin with, ‘blind’ is such a misnomer that it is laughable. This generation has seen more pictures of their prospective dates than I have of my entire family collectively. When we went in blind, we really went in blind. Armed with no more, especially if the set up was from a female friend, with weathered adjectives about bubbly personalities and shared interests, and straight out fabrications about looks. On both sides. I went on a lot of blind dates with women who, upon opening the front door, were completely unable to mask their disappointment. A date most surely over before it had even begun, but now there would be two hours of forced conversation over plates of baked salmon and asparagus to look forward to. Then a perfunctory follow up phone call two days later in the quixotic hope that you completely misread the situation and that her look of only slightly contained nausea was in fact just one of concealed excitement.
These kids today have no clue. Nor any inkling of grammar or vocabulary. No need for a crack forensic team to decode a message on an answering machine.
Now they had fucking emojis.
An emoji which takes care of sending a direct and unambiguous message about every situation. Should you be ambitious and take advantage of the richness of the English language, you might write ‘s’up.’ Or, really dig deep into the well of words and type out a real tome - ‘Netflix and chill.’ Complete words and sentences are becoming rarer than a lunar eclipse.
“Now if I had access to text back in the day,” I mused out loud.
I wasn’t saying I could have done better. I was just saying I could not have done worse.
Danna’s friend Syd asked if I had any blind date stories and Danna rolled her eyes and said “He has a whole book of them.” Which is true. I have written plenty of stories about blind dates. But most of the others could be told in a single line.
“She ordered Caesar salad as an appetizer and Caesar salad with chicken as her main.” That’s the whole story. I don’t think it needs more.
Or the blind date who suggested we go to an Indian restaurant where she knew the chef and proceeded to order eight appetizers and five main dishes.
“She ordered so much food she had leftovers for the entire week.”
Sometimes a single line - “She reprogrammed the radio stations in my car when I dropped her off,” begs for a few more details but, most of the time, one line is more than enough.
I don’t remember the names of these women, who set us up, or any other details about the date. I just remember the line.
Anyway, I shared some of these lines and got some good laughs. Then Danna said “I wonder how those women would describe a date with you in one line.”
And then Syd said “Actually...”
Danna said “Omg. He went out with your mom’s friend Carol. What did she say?”
Syd said “I really shouldn’t.”
“C’mon Syd,” urged Danna. “I am dying to know.”
Syd looked up at me. I honestly didn’t really remember Carol. It had been only one date and I guess there was nothing memorable. At least not for me.
“Go ahead Syd. You have complete immunity.”
“Ok. Well she said,” then she looked up at me and said, “remember, this is her not me.”
I said “Yup.”
“So she said you were very nice. Very smart...”
“C’mon Syd,” chimed Danna, “out with it.”
“Well she said ‘He wouldn’t stop talking about his fucking short stories.’”
Well. That didn’t narrow it down at all.
The end.