The best blind date ever.

Since I don't have anything else to tell you today (other than the fact that HOLY SHIT TODAY IS OUR 5TH ANNIVERSARY--CONGRATS ROSE AND KEV!!!!!), I'll tell you about my most heinous (and only) blind date.

And let's see if I can be funny about it. (I might need a glass of wine or a bong hit though....just sayin'....) Me at 4 PM...not so funny.

I had lived in Fort Collins just 2 short months and knew basically no one (except one MOST heinous roomie which might be ANOTHER story one day). I started out working as the gardener for the Director of CSU's Vet School, but that sucked. Hard labor = eh. I shortly thereafter went back to what I knew best - floral design. (I know, this is sort of irrelevant...bear with me.)

As I mentioned previously, my fellow tranny floral designer and I hit it off right away. I'm open-minded and like to think I can be pretty hilarious...so what tranny wouldn't just adore me? I also smoked a shit load of weed at the time and well, so did tranny! We used to leave for lunch and drive around in he/r crappy ride smoking schwag. Of course, she thought it was the best weed on earth and who was I to argue?

Anyway, one day we were in MY car puffing down on some schwag and a Phish bootleg was playing. Loni asked who it was, I professed my immense fondness for all things jam band, and she decided she had the PERFECT guy for me. His name was Tom and he loved Phish, had long hair, and WAS IN A BAND. Cha-ching!

So Loni plotted and planned and eventually I received a call from some dude who sounded more gangsta than trustafarian. We chatted for a bit, and believe me when I tell you his intellect left MUCH to be desired, but still- I had hopes. He asked if I wanted to hang and I said sure, how about Friday. He said he'd give me a call after work then and we could figure out the plans.

This might not sound like the funniest part of the date, but looking back it is: That Friday morning I bought really nice wine, a loaf of homemade bread, and some yummy cheese.

HA! Haaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Trust me when I say that a bag of greasy McDonald's may have been more appropriate.

Tom calls at approximately 6 PM and I tell him to come on over. Well, dude didn't even have a car! Now, that really wasn't the deal-breaker, but um, yeah it sort of was. So I got in my car and headed over to "Ramblehood" Apartments to finally meet my blind date. I was nervous and I wanted him to be cute. At least not totally doggified.

When I first pulled up I couldn't tell you if he was cute or not due to the unbelievable cloud of cigarette smoke and accompanying STENCH around him! SICK! BARF! COUGH!

Once the fumes cleared, my heart sank. I almost asked him to get out, who was this weirdo? Call me superficial, scorn me if you will, but sorry--greasy, stringy hair and trench coats are NOT my thing. But I am a nice girl and so I let him stay. But not so nice that I wanted to share my nice wine and yummy cheese with this creature. (Even though he shared his weed--more schwag--YUM.)

So we went to the Chinese place next door instead of chowing on my gourmet goods. I sucked down many many cocktails in order to deal. I was stuck. Stuck with a greasy plate of Chinese and a greasy headed date. Stuck! (And now also drunk.)

What would you have done? Probably what I did next! Call the roomie and get an OUT. We ended up meeting some people at Tony's in Old Town. I am giggling right now thinking about it, but I was an evil naughty girl. I hid, I ignored, I tried to run away. He didn't seem to care though, because eventually he was sitting up at the bar having a grand old time by his lonesome. Like a gothic-looking sore thumb in a sea of frat boy yo-buddies, he almost made my heart break just a little.

Ha, not really.

I ended up leaving the bar without saying goodbye. I dreaded seeing Loni on Monday and having to tell he/r that the dude was most surely NOT for me, but to my amusement, Tom had already told her some pretty choice things himself. I was slightly offended, but I am sure I deserved it.

The moral of this story is don't let your trannies grow up to be matchmakers. My tranny certainly did a bang-up job.

P.S. I lied! This actually wasn't my only blind date! I forgot that several years later I did the internet dating thing once. Not much better, but at least the guy didn't make me want to vomit on my Danskos.