Blind Date.

A slightly indelicate story.

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Blind Date.

“What a dork! Jesus, I hope my friends can’t see me now. I must be mad having a blind date without checking him out first. He doesn’t look like a serial killer, I’m wondering if he could harm a fly. I guess he must have a few hormones flying around inside of him or he wouldn’t be here. Of course, it could be a dare, you don’t need real hormones for that, or maybe it's some sort of obligation. I definitely won’t be getting laid tonight, at least, not by him.”

“Why did Rosie stick me with this woman? She looks like she’d eat me up in an instant. Also, she looks expensive. I’m picking it’s not going to be a jaunt around the library for her unless it’s at some millionaire’s place. What are we going to talk about? She may look pretty, but I bet she’s as dumb as an ox.”

“Christ, he couldn’t look more mournful. I’m being punished. Rosie is going to suffer for this. What did she do, go in the computer coding room and put her hand on the knee of the most gormless looking one there? What are we going to talk about? I suppose about virginity, he must know it as a concept. I suspect his line will die out with him. I suppose I could put it in for him. Christ, I’d better keep my laughter down or I’ll have to explain what I’m laughing about.”

“Laughing at nothing, now I know she’s mad. I mean, who laughs at nothing. Either they've got an over-developed sense of humour, or they’re mad. I guess I’m going to find out. Shit, I haven’t even asked her name yet. Liza, like in Pygmalion, or Lies a lot and as often as she thinks necessary? I’d better watch my smile, Rosie says it’s leery. Leery, she’s lumping me in with the cretins she fancies. Not a viable intelligent neurone in any of them.”

“At least his voice is not bad. I can’t figure out how it can come out of such a skinny looking torso. Perhaps his gonads are hollow and it resonates from there. But what will we talk about? Maybe I should just tell him that it’s a big mistake. I’ll ask him about ‘The Grateful Dead,’ all these nerds seem to dig them, even if they are dead, or l think they are. I’ll ask him about artificial intelligence and then I can drift off into La La Land.”

“I don’t believe it, artificial intelligence, does she think I’m a robot because I don’t have bulging muscles like the idiots she normally goes out with? Still, I may be wrong, she may dig it and there have been great developments in the sex-robots area. Maybe that’s what she wants to find out about. Maybe she just wants a stick on tap. She won’t even have to get out of bed for it, or even put make-up on. But, maybe I'm putting my fantasies onto her. She may genuinely want to know about A.I. I’ll open with the sex part first to see if she drools.”

“Is he propositioning via technology? Why the hell would I want to know about sex robots? Jesus, perhaps this is his way of getting his rocks off? Thank Christ he got off of that topic. He’s on safer ground with electric cars. I wonder if he knew I have one on order. The pricks in my life won’t hear me coming. Oh, my God, he’s getting amorous. Well, that look in my usual men tells me it’s getting close to put up or shut up time. But he’s talking about machinery; does that turn him on? I see if I can peep to see if a finger is pointing at me. My god, he’s hung like a horse, can it be I might be getting laid after all? If he can just shut up about machinery I just might be able to fantasize a mansion around me.”

“Oh, dear God, she’s edging toward me and I know what this means. Why is it that just because I’m built like a stallion with very little control over it, it seems to turn perfectly normal kind of females into wanton harlots. Do they feel deprived by the average guy out there with only his eight inches? I think I’d better stick with the nerdy women from now on. Rosie keeps sending me on so many of these blind dates I think she may be getting a commission. She’s certainly bought more things around the house lately. She knows I’m working on my thesis, and the lack of sleep I’m getting will set my PhD, back weeks.”

“God, he’s looking more handsome by the minute. I’ll let my hand just brush his knee, if it is his knee. Christ almighty, it’s lifting his leg up off the floor. I’ll grab him and get out of here. Christ, I’m sweating, he’ll really deflower this time. I feel like a virgin, and Madonna’s not even singing.”

“Rosie, you’ve got a lot to answer for. I’m not a stud, but I owe you. Please let me lie fallow for a while, at least till I get my doctorate. When I’m lecturing in the future I’m going to wear pantaloons, very loose pantaloons. Could you imagine it behaving like a weather-vane pointing at all the sighs coming from the young females in the front row?”

“I’ve got to hurry, nobody could have this much blood going to one part of the body and still be expected to be able to walk. I thought I was doing Rosie a favour, but it seems as though she knew it was my birthday. I’ll have to send her a nice big present later. There’s a woodshed outside, we’ll never make it to a bedroom. Ah, well, needs must. Come on, whatever your name is, but what’s in a name, it’s the measure of a man that counts.