The Chronicles of Dating, Installment #3: The Not-So-Blind Date

There are few awkward dating incidents that rival the moment of realization that your blind date isn't a blind date at all, when you realize that not only do you already know the person, but you already know you don't want to spend an evening in close proximity to, or in any way associated with, that person.

That moment stuck it's grubby toe in my college dating years not at the anxiously opening door of my parents' house where I lived, but at the random house I was directed to to meet my date. The moment, I think, wouldn't have been quite so bad (but still pretty horrendous) had we not talked on the phone 3 or more times on my drive over to this random house, and didn't figure out while on the phone that we knew each other.

(I know a lot of people meet up for blind dates, but I think it's rude not to pick a girl up, and it's totally more awkward, because if you've never seen your date before the actual date, how do you know what they look like? When a guy picks you up, there is no question that the person knocking on your door is your date. When you just meet somewhere, there are always tons of other people hanging around. How are you supposed to know who your date is? Totally awkward, and rivaling the aforementioned awkwardness of this narrative.)

So when the door of the random house opened, there was my date, a person I didn't realize I was going out with, because I did not know his real name, but only knew him by his nickname, Tool, which nickname, in and of itself, will give you a pretty decent idea of how excited I was to see him.

After the painful, "oh, hey, how are you?" and "uh, hi," the night commenced. There was no planned date, nor any attempt at feigning one. I thought this may have been a reaction to his realization that he knew me, but then I remembered that he still had me driving to his friend's house to join him at an ill-attended house party before he ever even knew who I was. Charming.

A handful of half-heartedly munched baby carrots after the big reveal, and I was stuffed in a dingy sofa in a dark room with a game controller and six pre-pubescent, late-twenties guys. That's right, my "date" was to show up at a house full of people I don't know, save that one that I do, and participate in a giant game of Halo, which I was really bad at, and which made everyone in the room I was in crazy mad, and everyone in a room across the hall insanely happy.

Funny thing is, the guy asked me on a second date. I declined, and have never played a second of Halo since.