The other night, I heard from Michael, a guy that my friend and fellow travel PR maven/blogger Lyla wants to set me up with. As we chatted about our mutual appreciation for Latin dancing and NYC’s theater scene, I couldn’t help thinking about the unpredictability of blind dates – and some of the memorable setups I’ve experienced.
There’s been no shortage of blind dates that failed to ignite any sparks. Like the tête à tête with a 40-something businessman who scoffed at my decision to leave the world of TV news behind for a career in PR. Or the tardy attorney who kept me waiting for a half an hour then proceeded to talk only about himself.
For every lackluster matchmaking attempt, though, I’ve been fortunate enough to experience a few blind date successes that made those disappointing evenings worth it.
Ten years ago, a college friend’s British-born husband suggested I meet up with David, a friend of his who had just moved to the Big Apple. The chemistry between us was immediate. Over the course of a year and a half together, David would become my good guy benchmark, seeing me through the devastating loss of my mother and taking the grand gesture to a whole new level with roses by the hundred.
There’s been no shortage of blind dates that failed to ignite any sparks. Like the tête à tête with a 40-something businessman who scoffed at my decision to leave the world of TV news behind for a career in PR. Or the tardy attorney who kept me waiting for a half an hour then proceeded to talk only about himself.
For every lackluster matchmaking attempt, though, I’ve been fortunate enough to experience a few blind date successes that made those disappointing evenings worth it.
Ten years ago, a college friend’s British-born husband suggested I meet up with David, a friend of his who had just moved to the Big Apple. The chemistry between us was immediate. Over the course of a year and a half together, David would become my good guy benchmark, seeing me through the devastating loss of my mother and taking the grand gesture to a whole new level with roses by the hundred.
Parade of Roses: Five dozen of the twenty-five dozen (!) roses that my British beau David gave me for my 25th birthday, January 1999 In 2001, at the tail end of my year-long TV reporter stint in Southern Illinois, my neighbor’s daughter invited me to dinner with her stepson Steve. I ended up changing my return flight to New York three times, as Steve and I fell into one of the most passionate romances I’ve ever had. Our friendship endures to this day.
Michael and I are scheduled to meet for drinks sometime this week. Though It’s too soon to tell how this latest go round of blind date roulette will turn out, I’m just happy to be back in the game.
1 comment:
Obviously I'm a day behind in my Google reader : ). I love the 25 dozen roses story! That is just amazing.
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