A good portion of my friends are getting married, and the rest are all in serious relationships. At the last wedding I went to, it was decided not to throw the garter...because it was faster just to hand it to me. Naturally, my friends decided it was time to set me up on a blind date.
In the past, blind dates have never really gone well for me, and based on my current track record, I'm thinking that they never will. The problem is that I seem to lack the ability to say no to my friends, and that's how I ended up on a date with Mandy.
First, I'd like to say that Josh never told me her name, and I know it's not cool to make a judgement based on someones name alone, but...I just don't believe that you should introduce yourself as Mandy. It's fine if your friends call you Mandy, because they're close to you, and they're comfortable using it as your nickname, but otherwise I just don't appreciate it. The exception to this rule is if it's used ironically, on extremely goth girls.
Anyway, my friend Josh called me to tell me when and where to meet this girl. I got to the restaurant, Sauce, and waited in the entryway. After a few minutes, a girl, Mandy, wanders in, telling the hostess that she was waiting for a blind date. I introduce myself, and we start talking about how we know Josh and his fiancée, during which time we each get a text message including the other's picture so we can be identified, which I imagine would have been more useful beforehand.
We sit down to dinner, having a pleasant conversation about essentially nothing, and we each have a drink in order to loosen up a little. And then she asks me the question I knew was coming, because it always does: "what kind of car do you drive?" I then had to explain that I was very poor, and could not afford a car at this time. Normally, this is where that line of questioning ends, with the woman's interest in me slowly declining, but still salvageable; however, Mandy was no ordinary date, and followed up with: "but you've got your license, right?"
One of my shortcomings, and there are many, is that I'm a terrible driver. It's not that I go too fast (which I do) or that run the occasional stop-sign (though never intentionally) but I'm just a dangerous driver, and I should just not be behind the wheel. I'm usually able to save this information for a much later date, at which point they're already somewhat invested in me and I've won a few points in my favour through my other various endeavours.
There was a brief awkwardness, which subsided after a few drinks, but...things were not really going my way. Admittedly, I was not all that invested in Mandy, mostly because she didn't think I was funny. To be honest, I don't think I'm funny, either, but I can usually make people laugh, which causes them to greatly lower their guard. Mandy was just an entirely humourless being, and my theory is that she and I are the only single people that Josh and his fiancée know, and therefore are perfect for one another through our shared loneliness.
I excused myself to the bathroom, briefly, and came back to a clearly inebriated date. I noticed a half-empty drink at my seat, which is odd, because I never leave the table without finishing my drink, but I was so bored during this meal that I figured I had just forgotten about it. Mandy then corrected me by stating that she had ordered us drinks. Hers was now empty, and mine half-so. I don't remember being in the washroom that long, so I have to admit that I was mildly impressed by how much this girl could take, but I really didn't want to be vomited on by a girl I didn't know, so I decided it was best to just get the bill and get her home.
I paid the bill, with Mandy leaning on my shoulder for support, and the hostess looking at me as though I planned to date-rape the poor girl, and I asked the hostess for the number for a cab. Mandy shook her head, saying, "no, I've got a car," and started digging in her purse for the keys. The hostess had dialed the number and called me the cab before Mandy found her keys, so we stepped outside, carefully, and I hoped that the brisk evening air would sober her up a little.
It should be noted that, at this point in time, it was 6:30pm, and Mandy was too drunk to stand under her own power. Here's a dating tip for you: that's not really the best impression to make on a first date.
When the cab finally arrived, the act of getting Mandy into her seat was akin to dressing a toddler. A lot of flailing, some whining, and everyone ended up irritated. The cabbie asked "where to?" but, through his gaze, I could hear that he was really telling me not to let my date vomit all over his car. I turned to Mandy and asked what her address was, praying silently that she had a roommate that would take care of her. Mandy smiled that lopsided grin with the winking eye that Paris Hilton sometimes gets, and said we should go to my place.
Since I'm not a date-rapist, I decided it was best to refuse her advances, and insist we go to her place. Partially because I knew that, instead of sex, I would just be holding her hair back, but also, I just really, really was not at all interested in her drunken shenanigans. Mandy once more insisted on going back to my place, so I opened her purse, to her protests, found her ID, and told the driver to go there.
The rest of the cab ride was filled with Mandy whining that I didn't like her, which I didn't, and that her car was going to get stolen, which it didn't, but it did give me a lot of time to think. One of my thoughts was that, if Mandy was anything like me, then then address on her ID hadn't been updated in 4 years, and I started to worry that we would end up in the middle of nowhere with no idea how to get this drunken party-girl home. When we arrived at Mandy's apartment complex, she gave out a sigh, opened the door, and tried to stand before undoing her seat belt. I looked at the cabbie, pleading that he wait for me as I get Mandy to the door, and then walked (dragged) my date to the building.
I buzzed her apartment number, waited, and, fortunately, her roommate answered. "Hi, um...I'm Mandy's date," no words were coming to me, as this was a horrible and awkward situation. "Can you come down and get her?" There was some brief confusion over Mandy's state of well-being, but the roommate came down and found her. I stepped forward to help the girls into the building, but was quickly pushed back by the roommate. "You can't spend the night here, that's not happening," she told me. I rolled my eyes and forced a laugh, explaining that I really didn't want anything more to do with her.
I got back to the cab, got home, and the time was, roughly, 7:45pm. I texted Josh to let him know that he did me wrong, and I tried to scrub the evening's events from my memory.
The next morning, or, rather, hangover-morning, which is mid-to-late-afternoon to the rest of us, I gave Mandy a call, just to see how she was recovering from her binge drinking. After answering, her responses were as so: "Hello? ... Who? ... Oh, right, sorry. ... No, I don't really want to talk to you right now." When I asked why, she explained that she was really angry at me for leaving her car at the restaurant, and now she would have to go back and get it. I told her that it would've been worse if I had driven her home, or worse, allowed her to drive home, but she didn't really see things the same way.
Apparently the only way I could make things up to Mandy was to take her out for a nice meal. Which I had already done, and neither of us enjoyed, but...what else have I got going on that I can't spend the night out with a girl I don't particularly care for?
I mean, really, could the second date be any worse than the first?
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