My new friend Kimba has gotten over her shock about being linked to a “fetish” blog, and has resumed posting her interesting stories of dating life. In response to a challenge from her, I’m going to post one of my own. Um, sorry, Kimba, but it’s a vanilla dating story. No fetish here. Hope you don’t mind.
A young man used to work for me, and over the course of several years I had gotten to meet much of his family, and then his girlfriend, and then his girlfriend’s family. I was having dinner there one day, when her mother said “You’re such a nice guy. Why aren’t you married?”
“I tried it once, and it didn’t work out very well.”
She suggested – insisted might be a better word – that I meet her niece, the girlfriend’s cousin. Since the girlfriend was very cute, I was hoping for a family resemblance.
So I agreed to be fixed up for a blind date.
Now, now, don’t roll your eyes. I’ve actually been on several blind dates, and I’ve always had a great time. The secret is to lower your expectations so that you can’t be disappointed.
So, one Saturday evening, I show up at the house, showered, shaved, and dressed nicely. The aunt greets me, and I go into the kitchen to meet Maria.
She was about 5’4″, 115 lbs, and well proportioned. A dark complexion, brown eyes, brown hair, and pearly white teeth. A very attractive young woman, indeed. She had on a light cotton, summery dress that accentuated her curves, a hint of cleavage, and just a little bit too much makeup (but after all, it was the 80s). I learned that she had a degree in Biology, and had been a teacher until moving to the area a few months earlier. And her family was concerned that she wasn’t social enough, and so was not meeting the “right” sort. We chatted for a few minutes in view of the family, and we soon left so I could take her to dinner at a restaurant I was fond of.
I know. You’re thinking that this is the antithesis of all those blind date stories. It’s not fair, is it? I’m supposed to have been set up with someone I’d have been embarrassed to be seen in public with, right? Three eyes, bad manners, chain-smoking, etc., right? Hah! No, indeed. I was rather pleased to walk her to the car, open the door for her (her aunt almost swooned at this), and drive off into the sunset. We chatted all the way to the bistro, getting to know each other. I lived in the next town, so the neighborhood was new to her, and I took the scenic route so she could enjoy the New England countryside.
We arrived at the restaurant, where we were fashionably late for our reservations (which means, just in time to be seated). The waitress knew me, and smiled as she handed us the menus and rattled off the specials of the day. And in true continental fashion, I ended up ordering for her. I suggested that she try a local favorite, and I had some fish of the day plate. I picked a nice wine (white, because she didn’t drink red – one strike there). We talked all during the appetizers, through dinner, and afterwards. It must have been fascinating to others sitting nearby, because the conversations touched on all sort of topics.
But eventually we had to call it an evening, so I took her home. We’d only planned on dinner, and she had some concerns that her old-fashioned aunt would flip if I kept her out past midnight, so I took her home. I offered to let her use my car phone to call her aunt so we could maybe go dancing, but she claimed to be too embarrassed. I let it drop; she was obviously shy and from a nice family, and the evening had been very pleasant up until then. I dropped her off (her aunt was waiting up), declined the offer of coffee, we hugged and traded a very chaste cheek peck and I drove back.
I stopped back at the same restaurant and went to have a stiff drink at the bar area, where they knew me. The bartender cocked an eyebrow. “You’re back pretty early,” she said, “what’s the matter, could get her to put out?”
“I, uh, didn’t even try,” I admitted to a few smirks and guffaws.
“Why not? She seemed really pretty. A bit shy, though, huh?”
“Yeah, some of it was shyness.” I took a sip of my Jack Daniels and water.
“Losing your touch?” the bartender asked.
I explained about the blind date setup, and said “No, it was more of a communication problem.”
“What? It looked like the two of you were doing a lot of communicating.”
“No,” I replied, “we were making a lot of effort, but the communication was much more of an issue than I’d thought it would be.”
“Why was that?” several people around the bar wanted to know.
“Because the one thing her aunt neglected to mention, was that she spoke almost no English at all!”