What Not To Do On A Blind Date

Woman blindfolded

I screwed up last night. Bigtime. I had a date with the last of the eHarms batch. Mr. Grand Finale and I had been playing phone tag for months. Finally we nailed down a date and time. 8:00, Opia Lounge. But first I pre-partied at a Glamour BBQ in the West Village, and that’s where the trouble began. Here’s what went down on my blind date.

Mistake #1: I showed up late. Is it possible I was 30 minutes late? I’m not sure. Granted, I called ahead, but still. It was a ten minute walk to the subway, then I missed the F train, took the V, jumped off, waited for another F when I could’ve stayed on the V, then walked six blocks very slowly in my high heels. Mr. Grande Finale, who is 39 years of age, is probably used to dating major career women who always take cabs. Bottom line: by making him wait, it looked like I think my time is more valuable than his. I was so Kelly from Real Housewives. NOT COOL. How To Date On Craigslist

Mistake #2: I showed up drunk. I’m tempted to believe I was sabotaged by some Glamour staffers who poured me three giant plastic cups of wine and Champagne, but in the end, I only have myself to blame. I mean, I’d been so disciplined about avoiding the onion dip and garlicky chips. I just didn’t stay away from the sauce. So when I sat down with Mr. Grand Finale, I ordered a water, straight up. "Is It Open Bar?" 34 Thoughts We Have At Weddings

Mistake #3: I showed my stupid. Inebriated, I’d been telling myself not to talk too much or over-share. But hey, I’m a blogger and over-sharing is my job. It’s inevitable. So when he told me he was originally from Pennsylvania, I blurted out that when I first moved to NYC, I didn’t know where Pennsylvania was, haha. True story. He got up to go to the bathroom.

Mistake #4: I showed up only semi-open-minded. I’d been having so much fun at the BBQ that I didn’t want to leave. I tried to shake it off. When I met Mr. GF, I thought he was a little too skinny, lacked broad shoulders, and wore old-man glasses, but I told myself I could work with it. I drank all my water, then I ordered one Guinness. After that, he asked if we should get the check. I said, “Sure!” but was thinking, “Ouch!” He was already starting to look better to me. I could’ve made out with him at that point, but out on the street, he just said, “You’re really taking the subway?” I nodded cheerily, although I could read his thoughts on his face: Should I put her in a cab? Nah, she’s not worth the $8. Then he said, “Okay, bye!” And ran off to hail a cab. I went to catch the 6 train, tail between my legs.

Bonus Mistake: I fed my feelings. Out of the subway, I headed straight for Burger King. Now, I’d already had a hot dog, grilled to perfection. But then I went to BK and had it my way. I ordered a Whopper with cheese, French fries, and “anything with chocolate,” which turned out to be a Butterfinger pie. I ate it all, went home, felt sad, and put myself to bed.

Today, I almost want to apologize to Mr. Grand Finale for my bad behavior. But there are no excuses. I guess it's true for men as much as it is for women: You really take your chances with eHarms.

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