Date #4: Great Expectations

Every time I prepare for another one of these blind dates, I go through a mental sort of checklist as I'm getting ready. Aside from the obvious (teeth brushed, hair fluffed and lips glossed), I also make sure that I strip myself of any 'expectations' that I may have about the date. I carefully unzip them and discard them on the bed - along with the various skirts and tops that have been tried on, hastily removed and rejected. By the time I leave my house I'm looking great and feeling expectation-free.

But there are certain things that are perfectly natural to expect when you're meeting somebody for the first time. For coffee. Allow me to explain...

This date was with a friendster of a friendster of a friendster. I had been browsing the site from the confines of my cool apartment one hot and lazy Saturday when I stumbled upon a very intriguing looking face. He was smiling at me, and from behind his very Buddy Holly -esque spectacles, I could see that he had very kind eyes. I browsed further and really liked how he expressed himself. I learned that he was a teacher, he loved board games, and he sited Madeline Peyroux as one of his favorite vocalists. I sent him a message. He responded. And eventually we were planning to meet for coffee.

We were to meet at "Uncommon Ground" (my 'Cheers'-everybody-knows-your-name-place) for coffee at 7pm. I arrive at 7pm on the dot and am greeted by Kristen, a hostess there. (See? They DO know me!) I tell her I'm meeting somebody - a boy - and after casually (alright NERVOUSLY) glancing about the room conclude that he has not yet arrived. I am about to have a seat by the door when she says, "Hey. There is somebody that's by himself in the next room. It could be him." I ask her what he looks like. She arches an eyebrow as if to say, 'Shouldn't you know?'

"Well, it's sort of a ...blind thing. I mean, he's not blind. It's a, well...I've never seen him before." She graciously offers to walk me into the room, allowing me to hide behind her until I can discern if the man seated by himself is, in fact, MY blind man - er, date. It is. And here we go.

I approach the table and immediately have the sense that I'm interrupting someone's private little dinner: A cup of coffee that has several sips missing, the torn up sugar packets, the half-drunk glass of courtesy water, a mostly eaten hummus plate once loaded with veggies and pita slices, the open book laid at just the right reading angle. All signs point to the makings of a quaint little table for one. As I stand there quietly observing, he is chewing and reading, chewing and reading. He suddenly looks up and sees me, sips some water to swallow his food, wipes his mouth with his napkin and thrusts out his hand. "I'm sorry. I got here early and I was hungry, so I...ordered some food. Would you like some?" I glance over to the sad little glob of hummus and remaining few pita slices. I can't tell which is more pitiful: The plate or his offer. I decline.

The server comes over and asks me if I'd like a $4 martini - they're on special tonight. I'm about to ask for a coffee - as that is what I was 'expecting' from this date- but then my thoughts are interrupted by a slurping sound and it's him sucking down his coffee and I think, my God - he must have the patience of a tse tse fly to not be able to wait FIVE MINUTES for somebody that you're supposed be having coffee WITH and you know what? Screw it. "I'll have a lemon drop martini, please."

Five minutes later I'm sipping a very tangy, very citrussy, very yummy four-dollar lemon ginger martini and feeling some of my edginess wane. I sip and I listen to him. And listen to him. In between mouthfulls of hummus and pita he talks about how he discovered he wanted to be a teacher, how much he loves his students, how it took him forever to graduate college, etc. etc. He talks about applying for jobs, being rejected for jobs, interviewing for jobs, etc. etc. At one point he throws up his hands and says, "Well! Enough about meeee!" Just then the server comes back and asks if he'd like some more coffee. "Is it free?" He asks. The server nods. "Is it decaf?" She nods again.

Oh, good night.

I'm sure he's a decent guy, even though he seems to be an old man trapped in the body of a mid 30's man, talks about himself incessantly, and has two cats.

And as for him starting the date without me, my quiet moment of vindication came in the form of a long blonde hair that had been hiding in the hummus, unnoticed, and made its appearance just as he was about to polish off that last bite.

And I'm sure he wasn't 'expecting' that.