The Blind Side

Being set up on a blind date by a friend is like eating dinner at a pal's house in elementary school. Sure everyone's excited and it's something new, but if her mom hands you a plate of crusty, overcooked casserole with what you think smells like canned tuna and resembles what you vomited after your tenth birthday party, with a glass of room-temperature whole milk, you have to just smile. And hide as much in your napkin as possible. Especially if your friend happily slurps hers down and asks if you want seconds.

So when a gal pal of mine said I should have drinks with this guy she works with, I of course asked for this man's rap sheet. What's his story, what does he do, is he cute? It's sort of pointless to ask these questions, because by her initiating the setup means she fully endorses him as a candidate for my company. But it's still fun to hear.

I trust my friend, I know she has my best interest in mind, and if anything it's another dating adventure I can catalog under dreamy or disaster. I needed to find out.

So I gave her the go-ahead and she passed him my number today. Am interested to see if he's a caller or a texter. There's something quite foul about a guy asking a girl out via text. Pick up the phone, you wimp.