Anyhow, it’s clearly the idyllic time for me to endure, I mean to experience the rich rewards of, another BDFH (i.e. blind date from hell). I figure by shortening the term, they won’t seem to drag out so damn long in reality. It’s desperate and irrational, yes. At this juncture, so am I.
So there I sat in the local coffee shop. The phone chat had been quite pleasant. I liked what I learned: he’s an accomplished writer, well traveled, financially stable, and seemed competent at the two-way discourse thing. The basics were covered.
Getting back to the BDFH, I knew it immediately. In fact, I knew as soon as I saw him opening the door to the coffee house. I knew that looks don't matter. Still, I greeted him with cheer.
“What would you like to drink?” he immediately asked, flaunting his generous offer to buy me a beverage. Note, the dude had suggested this coffee house, as he doesn’t eat at this "late hour" (i.e., after 6pm). Oy. Knowing he owns a home in a prestigious part of Berkeley, a cup of tea was not likely to set him back. “These are together,” he announced proudly to the cashier when she placed both of our drinks on the counter. He then dug into his wallet and whipped out some frequent coffee card type things. (I don’t know what they were. I was too embarrassed to look in that direction.) Generosity had reached an embarrassing low.
“You don’t want some chocolate? I’m surprised.” He teased. I retorted, “No thanks” with my sweet, charming authentically fraudulent smile that I plastered on my innocent face for the dreaded 90 minutes that ensued. The thing is, dear reader, we all know that I live for chocolate. Its curative, comforting and orgasmic inducing aspects are effective in all but one particular forum: the BDFH. The BDFH does not promote chocolate’s full potential. In fact, I enjoy chocolate the most when I am alone, having made it through another BDFH.
To be continued. Sorry, but the BDFH is, by nature, dragged out to the fullest extent of one's tolerance. Besides, it's springtime. Be happy!