Blind date.

Dating is awkward
But so is being alone (not finished)

The rain found its way inside, drip dropping on the floor, each drop louder than the last. I tossed the dead roses from a vase on the desk, dusted it off, and placed it onto the floor. “Who had even given me those roses?” I thought, as I slid my body all the way down, back into my chair. Waiting for him to show was torture. I never thought I was the type of person who needed help finding a man, but apparently, that was the case. “He’s just so smart Anna and so very polite!” Were the words uttered from my mother’s lips. “You’ll adore him!” To me, smart meant ugly, and polite just meant sneaky. The classic “Eddie Haskell” who flipped the angelic switch once Mrs. Cleaver walked into the room. This guy hadn’t even arrived, and I already hated him. Why did I do that? Why was it so hard for me to think this was a going to go well? “This guy could be the man of my dreams”, I thought.

“Drip”

“Drop”

That incessant rain kept adding minutes to the clock, as my dress seemed to become more and more wrinkled. At least my hair was still intact…for the time being. I did Olympic pool sized laps around my small apartment for hours that night. I was ready for an eight o’clock date by six. I blamed my father, for instilling in me an irrational fear of being late for things. “Curse you dad!” I said, as I practiced walking in heels that should require a license. Adding inches to myself did not make me any more smart or charming, but my legs looked damn good. I felt so vain staring into the mirror as much as I did that night. “Who are you?” I said to my reflection as I tried to recall the last time I had even been on a date. After smacking my gum for two hours I peered at the clock, which read eight.

“Get a grip Anna”

Nobody shows up directly when they say they will no matter how “polite” they are. By 8:05 I was convinced he wasn’t showing as good ol’ dad screamed inside my head.
“Annie you’re going to be late! Where is he?”
I rose from my bed and clonked along the rotting floor to check the level of filthy rainwater pouring into the vase. You would think someone wearing Chanel earrings and carrying a Gucci purse would not have to worry about rain inside the bedroom of their single floor apartment. Priorities. Priorities. Priorities.

Just as I stared at my reflection in the filthy murky water… I heard a loud knock on my door.
I took one last look in the mirror gave myself the pep talk of all pep talks and walked towards the door adjusting my dress to whatever curves I possessed. With my heart pounding like a newborn kittens I somehow brought myself to open the door, and there stood the handsomest man my eyes had ever beheld. “Thanks mom”, I said inside my head and aloud I managed to say, “It’s very nice to meet you my name is Anna.”


He reached out his hand, which had grown weary by the weather and an honest days work.
Man hands, I called them.
"Do you mind if I use the restroom?" He said.
Naturally I was horrified, that this picture perfect potential lover would come into my living space. A lot can be said about the way you keep your home. My home screamed "crazy cat lady with dripping cieling."