My Last Blind Date
by
Susan Hatler
The only thing worse than having a blind date on Valentine’s Day is having no date at all. Well, that’s exactly where I stood. I, Rachel Price, was dateless. Unless I chose what was behind Door Number Two.
The blind date option had just come from my friend and co-worker, Ellen Holbrook. She’d stopped by my cubicle at work and dropped the bomb. An exciting opportunity to meet the love of my life? Doubtful. With three failed set-ups courtesy of Ellen already, I dreaded dealing with another dating disaster.
Dateless or blind date? Decisions, decisions….
“So?” Ellen strode to my desk and fiddled with the stapler, making it click click click . She wiggled her brows and smiled at me hopefully. “Should I make the call?”
An actual date on Valentine’s Day had tempted me, but with Ellen’s track record, it’d be safer ordering take-out.
“No dice.” I reached up from my chair and gave her a hug. “But, thanks for the offer.”
My phone rang and I wondered who would be calling about software sales at four forty-five in the afternoon on the big Hallmark holiday. I snatched up the receiver. “Rachel Price. Hello?”
Heavy breathing.
Lovely. I slammed the receiver down.
Ellen gestured toward the phone. “Who was it?”
“The universe telling me all the non-psychotic ones are taken.” I swiveled in my chair and logged off my computer, knowing I wouldn’t get any more work done today. “Don’t worry about me, Ellen. Just promise when I keel over, old and alone, you’ll bury me in the backyard next to Chester. He’s the only one who’s ever really loved me.”
Ellen rolled her eyes like I was hopeless. “I love you, Morbid Girl. When are you going to admit you’re using your dog as a substitute boyfriend?”
She made it sound like a bad thing. Seemed like a smart move to me. Chester always greeted me at the door, liked to cuddle, and let me pick the side of the bed. What more could I ask for?
Oh, yeah. Romance, marriage, children….
“I’m telling you to listen to your best friend and let me set you up tonight. This guy could be your Henry.” She’d pulled out her ultimate enticement. Ellen and Henry had met, fallen in love, and married all in the last six months. They were sickeningly sweet, but I’d bet Henry leaving his balled up socks by the living room recliner day after day wouldn’t be so endearing by their first anniversary.
“Look, El. I appreciate the thought. Really. If the last three set-ups you planned hadn’t made me want to stab myself repeatedly with that letter opener, I’d totally be all over it.”
She glanced at the silver letter opener in my pencil holder, and then pointed a finger at me. “I knew you were holding a grudge against me for Wayne. How was I supposed to know he wasn’t over Sharon?”
“It’s not just Wayne, and you know it.” My bad blind dates blipped through my brain:
Blind Date #1: Cute, successful, and charming. Until dessert, when he suggested we head back to his place for some “whipped cream fun.” Claimed his nickname was Rock because he could rock a woman’s world.
Blind Date #2: Late, disheveled, and talked about his ex-wife the entire night. He cried at the end, announcing he didn’t think he was quite ready for dating. Uh, you think? Wayne now attends bi-weekly therapy sessions trying to figure out how to win Sharon back.
Blind Date #3: Salesman who spent an hour explaining my good fortune that he’d yet to tie the knot. He gave me his top ten reasons why he was a stellar catch. To end the date, I gave him my top ten reasons for cleaning out my doggy’s litter box.
I shook my head. Ellen’s heart was in the right place, but the nuts and bolts of her screening process needed serious tightening. “I’d rather watch Sex and the City reruns with Chester tonight than suffer through another bad date.”
“Trust me, this one will be different. Henry’s friend is in
by
Susan Hatler
The only thing worse than having a blind date on Valentine’s Day is having no date at all. Well, that’s exactly where I stood. I, Rachel Price, was dateless. Unless I chose what was behind Door Number Two.
The blind date option had just come from my friend and co-worker, Ellen Holbrook. She’d stopped by my cubicle at work and dropped the bomb. An exciting opportunity to meet the love of my life? Doubtful. With three failed set-ups courtesy of Ellen already, I dreaded dealing with another dating disaster.
Dateless or blind date? Decisions, decisions….
“So?” Ellen strode to my desk and fiddled with the stapler, making it click click click . She wiggled her brows and smiled at me hopefully. “Should I make the call?”
An actual date on Valentine’s Day had tempted me, but with Ellen’s track record, it’d be safer ordering take-out.
“No dice.” I reached up from my chair and gave her a hug. “But, thanks for the offer.”
My phone rang and I wondered who would be calling about software sales at four forty-five in the afternoon on the big Hallmark holiday. I snatched up the receiver. “Rachel Price. Hello?”
Heavy breathing.
Lovely. I slammed the receiver down.
Ellen gestured toward the phone. “Who was it?”
“The universe telling me all the non-psychotic ones are taken.” I swiveled in my chair and logged off my computer, knowing I wouldn’t get any more work done today. “Don’t worry about me, Ellen. Just promise when I keel over, old and alone, you’ll bury me in the backyard next to Chester. He’s the only one who’s ever really loved me.”
Ellen rolled her eyes like I was hopeless. “I love you, Morbid Girl. When are you going to admit you’re using your dog as a substitute boyfriend?”
She made it sound like a bad thing. Seemed like a smart move to me. Chester always greeted me at the door, liked to cuddle, and let me pick the side of the bed. What more could I ask for?
Oh, yeah. Romance, marriage, children….
“I’m telling you to listen to your best friend and let me set you up tonight. This guy could be your Henry.” She’d pulled out her ultimate enticement. Ellen and Henry had met, fallen in love, and married all in the last six months. They were sickeningly sweet, but I’d bet Henry leaving his balled up socks by the living room recliner day after day wouldn’t be so endearing by their first anniversary.
“Look, El. I appreciate the thought. Really. If the last three set-ups you planned hadn’t made me want to stab myself repeatedly with that letter opener, I’d totally be all over it.”
She glanced at the silver letter opener in my pencil holder, and then pointed a finger at me. “I knew you were holding a grudge against me for Wayne. How was I supposed to know he wasn’t over Sharon?”
“It’s not just Wayne, and you know it.” My bad blind dates blipped through my brain:
Blind Date #1: Cute, successful, and charming. Until dessert, when he suggested we head back to his place for some “whipped cream fun.” Claimed his nickname was Rock because he could rock a woman’s world.
Blind Date #2: Late, disheveled, and talked about his ex-wife the entire night. He cried at the end, announcing he didn’t think he was quite ready for dating. Uh, you think? Wayne now attends bi-weekly therapy sessions trying to figure out how to win Sharon back.
Blind Date #3: Salesman who spent an hour explaining my good fortune that he’d yet to tie the knot. He gave me his top ten reasons why he was a stellar catch. To end the date, I gave him my top ten reasons for cleaning out my doggy’s litter box.
I shook my head. Ellen’s heart was in the right place, but the nuts and bolts of her screening process needed serious tightening. “I’d rather watch Sex and the City reruns with Chester tonight than suffer through another bad date.”
“Trust me, this one will be different. Henry’s friend is in
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