Uncle Sam Wants You!

Enter, blind date. At the mercy of my boss, I agree to go out with a friend of her husband. Six months previously she had given him my phone number. He never called. Whatever. And suddenly, one bad date with Bart and I get a phone call from Army. You can guess how Army gets his name. Actually, I didn’t even know who Army is. I listen to his message. And listen again. And one more time. Oh, right. Boss’s husband’s friend. Okay, we’ll go out.

And we do, and I look good. And he’s wearing cowboy boots. Okay, I can keep an open mind. Oh wait, Army’s not really good at the conversation. By the time we drive the 15 minutes to park, I have now asked every question I can think of. Crap. Army tells me that my boss suggested a restaurant, but Army doesn’t really know where it is. I’m up for walking. And we walk. And we walk. And we walk. And walk. And walk. And I wonder if we’re going to have to stop for food and water. And this restaurant is nowhere to be found. So, we go somewhere else. That’s fine…see Army, I’m so flexible…I can roll with the punches. What a great catch, I am! Dinner is fine, there’s joking, there’s laughing, there’s eating and lots of water. And Army stands up, “I’m going to the bathroom. Hopefully I’ll be back soon.” Umm, I don’t want to know what you’re going to be doing in the bathroom! Army returns, and we walk. And walk. And walk. And I’ve exhausted any question I can possibly think of. We seemed to be having a decent time, though, and on the way back to the car, there’s definite flirting, and I’m hoping for some serious lip action. I mean, he may not be much for conversation, but this guy’s got pipes! (DRAG YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER…I talking biceps!)

So, we pull back up to my place and he uses the line: “Do you mind if I come in and grab a glass of water.” Grab away, my friend, I think to myself.

As it turns out, the restaurant my boss had suggested hasn’t existed in several years, and there was no lip action. Bummer. But there was hugging and more flirting and a promise to call. Can we say potential?

As it turns out, he didn’t call (typical, right?) and all I was left with was feet full of blisters from all that walking.

On to the next date. Oy vey.