Blind Date

Dear Diary,

I’m writing this Saturday night, I’m in The bathroom. I need to make this quick. I couldn’t wait until the morning.

As soon as she walked into the bar, I knew I’d hit the jackpot. 

She was tall. She was blonde. She had the right red shirt and the red lipstick. She had the coy smile and those “fuck me” eyes as I greeted her. 

Usually, Id never end up with such attractive dates.  There was usually something off about the face— a crooked nose, eyes too close together, big forehead, and sometimes all of those at once— or something off about their body—or in other words, too chubby for me. 

That being said, I wasn’t expecting to get this lucky for a blind date.  To be honest, if I wasn’t so damn dry the last three and a half months, I probably would’ve said no to a blind date altogether.

 Phil had never exactly set me up with anyone before. All the girls phil had ever introduced to me in the past were lumpy and oily and gross. Meanwhile, Phil somehow always had some hottie wrapped around his arm.

But tonight, that didn’t matter, seeing as I was only interested in getting laid, and not, in painting a portrait of her. Therefore, I obliged. 

And for once, Phil had actually done me right. Oh Phil, how will I ever thank you, bro?

She walked in with her breasts popping out of her tight red shirt, causing all the eyes of gawking old men in that dingy bar to near pop out of their skulls in response.  She was probably the only attractive female—besides the semi-attractive, but  overly made up waitress— who had been In there in quite some time. Suddenly, the old southern rock I’m the background and sports highlights on the fuzzy tv screens weren’t so interesting anymore. Her hips swung by them all, leaving them in agonizing want. Her jiggling, bouncy butt left a poth of destruction it it’s wake.  My eyes ran up and down her body, and then I noticed her looking my way after I finally peeled my eyes from her body.

“Are you Patricia?” 

“Yeah, are you...”

“Yeah, I’m Kevin. Phil’s buddy”

Patricia sat down and Immediately she gave me a bored look. 

“What do you drink?”

I asked. 

“Vodka, splash of cranberry, splash of sprite.”

“Classy”

I said with a smile.

She gave me yet another bored look 

I called over the waitress and as I ordered for Patricia, I felt like a bad ass—calling over the semi attractive waitress, and ordering  the vodka cran and sprite for the playboy centrefold worthy model across from me—while meanwhile, the guys all around were In pain, wishing they were in my place.  I was sitting there, new cologne, fresh with my new haircut, a weeks paycheque from work,  and a brand new outfit my newly hired personal stylist had picked out. 

“So how do you know Phil?” I asked

“You mean he didn’t tell you?” She said with a hardly perceptible scowl

“Well, uh, yeah, I mean. I just thought I’d ask you.”

I stuttered.

It looked like I’d struck out. 

“What do you do?” She asked changing the subject. 

“I do commercial realestate for the Baker group.”

“Did you say Baker group?” Said Patricia, her eyes suddenly glowing with interest. 

I was saved. 

I told her about all the first class flights and expensive business trips to exotic islands that had names no one had ever heard like “Umnabago” and “Zantamos island” 

She was enthralled enough to let me and my stories just keep rolling along while she downed afew more drinks. Eventually she either drank enough, or I was on enough for her to actually giggle at some of my bad jokes. At least enough for her to agree to get into my car despite how drunk I was, and to head back to my place to ‘see my fish-tank’. 

Alas, the story didn’t end in a drunken car crash. The gods were on my side. It’s quite amazing when things actually have a happy ending.  

The best part was, I felt like once I got to her, she actually was a cool person. She wasn’t just sexy. I feel like we really connected. When we finally fucked, i wasn’t just focused on her body, despite how goddamn perfect it was. I mean, christ, her skin was so smooth and her body was just so damn curvy and wonderful and I just couldn’t stop running my hands (and my eyes) all over her. As I write this I am hungry to just take her this very moment.

But there was also something else. Something deeper. I  remember staring into her eyes and just seeing into her soul. I remember thinking, “I’m the luckiest man in the world” and the beautiful part was, I could tell she felt the same....

Shes out there waiting for me now, so I better cut this short. I think I’m in love. I think she could be the one.

Until next time, 

Kevin

...

Dear Diary,

Where do I even begin?

I feel broken beaten and betrayed. I’m a dirty used up butchered up carcass flayed and burned into a heap of specks inside an ashtray. 

It’s all thanks to Danielle’s stupid fucking boyfriend who set me up with some rando at a bar. I swear he drugged me or something. I don’t know. All I know is I got way too fucked up and now I feel sore and gross. It must’ve been how goddamn boring he was. I just had to numb the boredom of it all. I knew I shouldn't have gone on another blind date. I knew how it would end up. I knew. But I still went. 

And of course, he was, as I suspected, a total fucking dud. I could tell by the cologne. Just like all the other frat guys. Another boring clown with a good job and a good car and a good bank account and pretty well nothing else. Plus, his style sucked. He looked like he had read one too many fashion magazines and just went trigger happy one day with his credit card at the outlet mall. He had a frat boy look about him that makes me regurgitate now as I think about him. You know, one of those kind of guys who just assume they have some proprietary share of the world. I was sickened by him from the instant we met. I was sickened by that self assured smile, that smug self righteous prick.

And somehow, he managed to get me drunk and agreeable enough to go along with it. The way he flaunted his money, I felt like I had to take whatever I could From him. Man, I was bored. Perpetually bored by him and guys like him. Maybe that was his trick. I just kept drinking. I was bored and I knew he was fronting the bill, so I just kept ordering. Meanwhile, he just made himself seem cool, talking about his money and car, and masseuse, and stuff like that. 

Anyway, then he said some bullshit about his fish tank. I like fish. We went to his place in his Mercedes. He drove like a fucking maniac. I nearly vomited. He made me another drink at his place. He had some awful elevator jazz music playing. It was cheesy. Leather sofa, crappy pretentious art, a glass coffee table. I wasn’t even through my first sip before he had his hands were on me. He was kissing me and pressing me against the wall. It felt just like all the other frat boys. Everything from his lips to his hand grabbing my ass and the words he was slobbering all excitedly into my ear. 

“Mm baby you’re so fucking hot. “

Oh man did I ever feel sick 

And I’m sick even as I write this.

And as he fucked me he stared right into my eyes. I’ve never been so uncomfortable. I tried closing my eyes but the thought of him staring at me was far too terrifying for me to bare. All I could smell was his sweat masked by the cologne. I had to stare up at the ceiling.  Just staring at the fucking ceiling waiting for it to end. 

And finally, the sky had brightened, a little. Some light from the overcast, gloomy fall morning come in through the massive window panels. I felt sobered up. I watched him snore for a few moments and debated waking him up to tell him I was leaving.  But I didn’t. I was too revolted. I felt raped. I felt taken advantage of. I just wanted to go home and be alone and stand beneath the hottest water my shower could deliver until the tank ran out. 

And so I left. But as soon as I did, I went back into his place. I had another idea. As I climbed on top of him, he awoke with a sick, gleeful smile across his face. I could tell he was about to whisper “good morning” and probably ask me what I wanted in my pancakes, but before he could I slit his throat and watched the blood pore out from his filthy, worthless body. 

Love, Patty.