The Bedroom Blog

Let's Get Real About Blind Dates

Chloe has some confusing feelings.

By Alessandra Torre

It's been 60 hours since my blind date ended. 

Sixty hours since I kissed Cammie on the cheek and thanked her for bailing my ass out.

Sixty hours since Dante invited me to join them for drinks and I relived the entire night over margaritas and Mexican music.

It wasn't like it had been horrible. In fact, I probably didn't have to take Cammie's rescue call. I could have silenced her ringtone and lived through the next half hour. But … well, I'll start from the beginning.

What a nerd. That was my first reaction. When Alec walked into the restaurant and waved, my stomach dropped and every junior high instinct came on high alert. I could see his weakness in the nervous push of his glasses onto his nose. In the blush of his cheeks when we shook hands. He was on edge, his hands almost shaking when he first reached for the chopsticks. I don't know that I've ever gone out with a nerd before. And I wondered, when we sat down at the tiny two-top behind a huge aquarium, if we would have anything whatsoever to talk about.

He was, actually, kinda cute. You had to look past the glasses and the extremely neat hair. The cardigan and the Timex on his wrist. When you looked past all that, he was working with a pretty good deck. Strong jaw. Brilliant blue eyes. Thick hair. But … *sigh* still nerdy.

I don't know when I started thinking that good manners were a bad thing, but I winced when he pulled out my chair. Gestured him down when he raised to his feet whenever I stood. Watched him politely order and was somehow irritated by his "please"s and "thank you"s. Is it bad that I, for a moment, wished he was more like Vic? Wanted him to lean back in his seat and hang his arms on the back of the booth? Check out the waitress's ass and then give me an unapologetic grin? Interrupt my story, which he really wasn't listening to, and pull me forward into a kiss?

I wanted all that and was instead stuck with a man who'd have made my mother beam.  A man who asked me questions and was interested in the answers. A man, I'm firmly convinced, who would never cheat, steal, or lie. I probably would have been more likely to focus on all those good qualities if he hadn't made dinner conversation entirely out of Wikipedia material.

"Did you know that originally the sushi's rice was never eaten?" He tilted his head towards my chopstick, which gripped a Surf & Turf roll in its tight grip.

"Really?" I raised my eyebrows and dunked the piece into some soy sauce.

"Yep. Sour, fermenting rice was used only to aid in the creation of a sour taste — called umami. Once that taste was achieved, they'd discard the rice and serve the fish."

"So. When'd they start including the rice?" I got the question out, then filled my mouth with the gigantic piece.

He tilted his head and tapped his sticks on the plate. "I … don't know. Can't remember that part."

He blushed, like the missed fact was a huge faux pas, and I laughed. And then, my cell rang.

I had considered silencing it. But then … what good was a date with a guy like Alec? And one day before Valentine's Day? I would never end up with someone like him. I just wasn't wired that way. My heart beat fast for confidence and asshole. For unattainable and nevergonnahappen.

Someone like Vic.

Someone like Clarke.

Maybe I shouldn't have taken Cammie's call. Maybe I should have given Alec a chance. Not rushed off with a "See you later!" that I didn't mean in the slightest. Maybe I could use a little more nerd and a little less asshole.

Maybe I don't have any idea what I need.