"Enjoying the view there, Gary?" Mark Puckowski asked.

Gary Jameson jerked around in his seat: "Huh? What are you talking about, Puck?"

Puck grinned and inclined his head towards the photocopier, where Stacey Feldman was publishing what looked like a mid-sized novel.

Gary smiled sheepishly.

"She's out of your league, bud," said Puck.

"A man can dream, can't he?"

"Sure. But when you're ready to float back down to the real world, I know a girl who would be perfect for you. You should meet her sometime."

"Yeah? Who's this perfect girl, Puck?"

"My sister."

Gary looked his friend in the eye. Oliver Hardy never had a straighter face than Puck's.

"You want to set me up with your sister?"

"Sure, you interested?"

Gary considered; Puck was a pretty good-looking guy. That he might have a gorgeous sister was a very plausible possibility.

"Yeah, okay."

"Great," said Puck. "Meet us at Spencer's at eight o'clock tomorrow night."

"Wonderful," said Gary. "What's her name?"

But Puck had already headed back to his cubicle.

***

Gary was at Spencer's by 7:30, of course, sitting at a high table for two with a good view of the door, nursing a beer.

At 7:48 he was half-way through his second beer, passing time by doodling patterns in the condensation on the table-top and half-watching the game on the screen behind the bar.

At 7:57, Stacey Feldman floated gracefully through the door and the drummer in Gary's chest chose that moment to practice a crazy polyrhythmic drum solo. He managed to return her wave in an almost-casual manner, and quickly got to work on Beer Number Three to calm his nerves. That she sat down at a similar table for two with an equally good view of the door did not escape his notice.

At 8:03, there was still no sign of either Puck or his sister. More importantly, whoever was meeting Stacey was running late as well, and Gary had watched her politely turn away at least two hopeful young men already.

Carpe diem, he thought as he picked up what was left of his beer and headed over to Stacey's table.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked tentatively.

Stacey looked up. "Gary, hi! Um, I'm supposed to be meeting someone here, but-" she exaggeratedly pouted- "they haven't shown up. Yeah, have a seat."

She hit him with a megawatt smile, and Gary was glad that he was already in the process of sitting down. "Someone stood you up? I thought that only happens to people like me."

Stacey looked him up and down. "Why would anyone stand up a nice guy like you?"

Gary felt his ears redden. "The question is, what guy in his right mind would pass up a chance to buy you a drink?"

"The nervous kind, I suppose," sighed Stacey. "I've never met him- don't even know his name. It's a blind date that Puck set up. I suppose the guy just changed his mind at the last minute."

"Excuse me," said Gary. "Puck?"

"Yeah, Mark Puckowski, from Sales. You don't know him?"

"Yeah, I know him. It's just that I was supposed to meet his ..." Gary's voice faded away as something clicked in his head. "You know what? I'm sure your guy will show up in a little bit, but I'd really like to buy you a drink while you wait."

Stacey smiled again, but Gary was ready for it this time and was already hanging onto his chair. "That would be lovely, thanks very much. You know, I've never gotten to know you very well at work. Get me a dirty martini and come back and tell me what I've been missing."

The bartender chuckled to himself as Gary walked up with a very foolish smile on his face.

***

The next day, Gary caught up with Puck at the water cooler.

"You don't really have a sister, do you?"

Puck just smiled. Gary heard him laughing all the way back to his desk.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE AREN’T ALOWED IN!?”

I almost died of embarrassment right there and then. There he was shouting at this (rather handsome) waiter, who had just informed us that Ronald, my blind date for this evening, was unsuitably dressed and would need to put on a shirt and “proper trousers” before we were allowed to enter the dining area. I on the other hand was wearing a slimming lime green dress which hugged my thighs and accentuated my breasts (Ronald was dressed in blue denims and an orange t-shirt patterned with patches of sweat under the arms).

“Okay I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted. I don’t own a pair of proper trousers however and my shirt is in the wash. Could I perhaps borrow a shirt?”

Are you kidding me? There are a number of ways to make yourself look stupid and incompetent, and asking to borrow clothes from a man who looks like he earns minimum wage is reasonably high on that list. We only just met 5 minutes ago and already I am thinking about feigning a stomach ache. He arrived half an hour late in his ford escort and went on to inform me that he had bowel problems and he must be excused for being so tardy. I gave him a look that should have told him he was not excused and the bowel story was too much information. However he beamed at me (one tooth was missing) and proceeded to skip happily along the road to the restaurant we are currently standing at, leaving me trailing behind. Mental note #1 : Work on my “You’re not excused…” look.

“How about grabbing a Chinese take-away from round the corner eh? Leave this man and his fancy pants café to it shall we?”

Actually I’d rather stay with him for what it’s worth. A Chinese take-away with a dishevelled man wearing a sweat drenched t-shirt and smelling, frankly, like he had just been revisited by the bowel gremlin is not my ideal cup of tea. Id much rather be having a fine meal with Sergio (or so it said on his name tag, but I’d settle for anything really, Mark, James, Paulo…I’m not fussed) and discussing how wonderful I looked this evening, instead of having a conversation about how rugby is a real man’s sport…

“The problem with rugby is that it’s overshadowed by football. I mean football a game for women, men play rugby. Funny story, my nephew…”

I’m really not in the least bit interested in your nephew. The sooner this takeaway comes the better. At least I’m half way through the date, but by the looks of this place I wont need to pretend to have a sore stomach.

“Kung Pow chicken and fried rice for the lady. Sweet and sour chicken with boiled rice for the gentleman (ha ha you must be joking!), and a free bag of prawn crackers because we kept you waiting for so long”

Thanks for that. More food is all we need, it’ll be tomorrow morning before I’ve finished eating my way through this meal. I had no idea you could ‘Super Size Your Meal‘ at Chinese take-away shops now…

“So do you want to eat this back at my place?”

I feel like I’m on a Reality TV/Game Show where they take a blind date and add elements of Fear Factor. He has been babbling on for 10 minutes now about how he works with sewage and how if he told me what he did today it would put me off my food. Lovely. I decided that now would be a good time for stomach pains and if that didn’t throw him off I could always tell him I’m pregnant (I’m not but it works wonders when you want to end a date quickly).

“Oh, well if you’re not feeling well maybe I should run you home in my car…”

I don’t think so buddy.

“…or maybe we can reschedule for another time, say Saturday at 7?

Okay this is getting ridiculous, even if you had come dressed properly I would still have been flirting with Sergio the instant you left to go to the bathroom, and would have returned to the restaurant after you had left to try and get his phone number. There will be no resheduling!

I told him we just aren’t compatible and that we should maybe just leave it at that, and if he’d be kind enough to call me a taxi then id be on my way.

“Sure. I totally understand. I used the last of my money to buy the Chinese though, so you’ll have to pay for your own cab.”

Mental note #2 : Try and find Sergio

Noelle was tired of dating mean, unfeeling men. Her latest relationship with Dean, the 250 pound solid rugby player, who had a penchant for shooting little furry animals, had just blown up in her face. As of this moment, Noelle Baker was swearing off “dangerous men.” She was ready for a nice, sensitive man, who would read her sonnets before bed and who would whip up whole wheat banana pancakes every morning. Noelle was excited to trade in nights at cage fights for romantic dinners and red roses. She was ready for meaningful and intelligent conversations, not just a hot physical connection…on second thought, she’d take both. The only problem was that she had no idea how to find such a man. Her whole life, she had been drawn to bad boys and extreme jerks; nice boys weren’t even blips on her radar. Fortunately, her sister, Season, had connections.

Noelle stood in front of the mirror, inspecting her body. She was hot; thank god for good genes and yoga. Her little black dress hugged every curve and emphasized two very important points of interest. Noelle was shaking with excitement: tonight was her first blind date, ever. She prayed that Season and her sister’s best friend, Fletcher, an organic PETA activist, found a good match for her.

“You know, Noelle, I think Camden would prefer you with less makeup. He’ll appreciate a beautiful aura more than a pretty face,” Fletcher said as he critiqued her appearance.

“Look, Fletch, just because you prefer women who sport unwieldy body hair and smother themselves in Patchouli oil, doesn’t mean that your friend won’t appreciate this beautiful work of art,” Noelle snapped back. She was a knockout; Fletcher just didn’t know what he was talking about.

“I was wrong,” Fletcher conceded, “You’re being so heinous that your aura is probably black anyway. Leave on the second face, and your devil red lip stick is smeared on your teeth” Laughing, he exited the room. Noelle growled under her breath.

Seconds later, Season floated into the room. “You look really expensive, Noe,’ Season commented in her breathy voice. Noelle gave Season a half-hearted glare; Season had pulled through after all. ‘I think Camden will like you, you’re a step out of his ordinary,” Season finished.

Noelle pulled her sister into a hug and whispered, “Thank you for finding me Mr. Nice!”

And, as if on cue, the doorbell gave a little chirp. The two sisters broke the hug, and jumped excitedly, tearing down the stairs. Noelle tentatively cracked the door open, her hands trembling with every inch the door opened. When confronted with her “Mr. Nice,” Noelle’s excitement quickly turned to confusion…then to misguided anger.

Her date, HER DATE, was standing on her doorstep, HER DOORSTEP, with another woman (and a considerably older looking woman at that)! Forgetting all her manners, Noelle blurted out, “I’m not that kind of kinky!” Blushing a deep crimson, Noelle desperately tried to smooth over the situation.

“What I mean is, Hi, I’m Noelle!” Noelle’s blush lessened as she continued on, “It’s great to meet you. Sorry about my outburst, it’s just that, uh,” she nodded in the direction of the other woman, “Neither Fletcher nor Season told me that this would be a double date!”

Fletcher chose this time to interrupt with a blunt, “It’s not!” Now Noelle was profoundly confused.

Her date Camden just smiled and said, “I’m sorry for the confusion, Noelle. First of all, it’s wonderful to meet you, and I’m looking forward to our date! Second, I would like to introduce you to the wonderful woman who will be joining us tonight—My mother!”

Noelle felt as if the air had blasted out of her lungs. “Mother?!” she mouthed silently.

Hours later, Noelle was slumped over in her chair, downing her third martini. This had to be the worst date she had ever been on; ignoring the reproachful stares from ‘mother,’ she knocked back what was left in her glass. Noelle felt betrayed by Season and Fletcher, and she felt miffed that she wore her sexy panties for nothing.

“You know, Noelle, you are such a beautiful person, but I think your drinking habit is really disgusting. I mean, think of your kidneys…You need to make your inner body as exquisite as your outer shell! You should join me in my meditation, mind, and body class. I think you would really enjoy cleansing your soul and energizing your chakras! Me and mot-“

“WAITER!” Noelle screamed as she flagged down her new best friend, “Refill!”

Sighing dejectedly, Noelle scanned the room, her eyes lit up at a magnificent sight sitting at the bar. A man with a tattooed neck and thick leather jacket was slamming his drink down on the counter, nearly breaking the glass. Noelle licked her lips in anticipation. Camden had cured her of her lust for nice men. She’d take a rough Harley man over a pathetic mama’s boy who jabbered on about paradigms and chakras any day.

With barely a wave good bye, Noelle headed towards the bar.

Karen, my about-to-be-ex-best friend thought this would be a good idea. I guess I shouldn’t blame her though. It’s been a long time since I went out with a man, and frankly, I’m starting to notice cobwebs in strange places. Why do they call them cobwebs? Are cobs a kind of spider? Remind me to Google that later. Ew, what goes in a cob salad?
Oh, right, back to the date, sorry. Well, I agreed to meet him for lunch, which seemed harmless enough. When I got to the coffee shop, the headache came. You know that headache; it’s the one you get when you have to drop the kids off at your ex-husband’s parent’s house. And SHE comes out, and you have to behave like a civilized rational human being because you don’t want to scar the kids like your mother scarred you. But you have this terrible headache that won’t go away until you get back in the car and are driving away from their house. Well anyway, that was the headache I had when I met Keith.
I told him I’d be wearing a yellow scarf and he said he’d have a brown jacket. Actually, I don’t even have a yellow scarf, I just figured, I go in there and look around and if he was like a loser or something, I could leave and not have to talk to him.
It was a good plan too. Unfortunately, Karen was with him. The skank, she’s pointed right at me, didn’t even give me the chance to ditch. So I came over to the table and Keith stood up to shake my hand. Gross, I have to let him touch me. And seriously, who still stands to shake hands with a woman.
And there’s Karen grinning at us like she’s some amazing matchmaking guru. I’m glad I took all those collect calls from her phone.
So he asks me about the yellow scarf, and I pretend like I don’t even know what he’s talking about. I’m like “I don’t even have a yellow scarf, why would I tell you I’d wear one?”
Karen says she just wanted to make sure we got together, so she gets up to leave. As she’s leaving, get this, she turns and winks at me. Yeah, okay this guy is really not anything to wink about. He’s like 5’9” , brown hair, and a tee shirt. He came to a date wearing a tee shirt. If he’s not going to take this date seriously, How can he expect me to?
So he starts talking, right? It starts off okay, He asks me about my job so I tell him about all the skanks at work and how I get even with them by telling their husbands that the real reason they’re going to be late is that they’re at a bathing suit optional hot tub party at the boss’s house. Yeah, like he would really invite them over, he’s probably gay anyway so it was obviously a joke. But they get all pissed off.
Keith doesn’t even laugh. He just kind of stares at me. I think he must be really slow so I explained it to him again and told him about other things I do to the stupid people in my office.
I guess he still didn’t get how funny it was ‘cause he started looking nervous. But then I thought maybe he was just nervous ‘cause of how hot I looked. So I felt bad for him. So I asked him what he does.
He said he was a business guy or a doctor or something. And he’s talking and it’s all “blah, blah, blah my job, blah, blah, me, me, me” he says he’s always put his job first, and now he wants to have a family and settle down.
And I’m thinking this guy can’t make up his mind about what he wants. Man, if he doesn’t focus I’m gonna kill myself. I hate that about people. Make a freakin’ decision already!
So, after the date I went home and told Karen “If that’s all that’s left out there, then no wonder I’m single.”

John was generally trusting of people, so he couldn’t imagine it was a cruel joke. A horrible mistake perhaps—maybe he heard wrong when his friend Ted told him the time…or the place. It was, after all, possible that he might have transposed a digit or two in the address or gotten the street wrong. Peachtree and Peachford do sound an awful lot alike. But the more John thought of it, the more he was sure that he hadn’t made a mistake. He knew he was in the right place at the right time. But why this place?
The whole scenario made John uneasy. In the first place, Meg sounded way to good to be true. Ted made her out to be some kind of saint, which seemed a tall order given that he had only met her the week before. He claimed that they were both a festival people watching when they caught each other’s eye. She was a tall, trim redhead with big brown eyes according to his friend. But that didn’t make sense either. If she looked so good and they hit it off so well, why wasn’t Ted interested in her? And how had he managed to set her up on a date like they’d known each other for years? It all made John’s head hurt.
But he knew he had to go through with it or there’d be no living it down with Ted. That’s all he’d gone on about the whole week. John had just bought a house the week before and Ted and been over several nights helping him move in and get settled. When John initially refused to be set up, Ted kept making these annoying little comments about John’s need for companionship and what a waste it was to have the perfect little house with the perfect little yard in the perfect little neighborhood and have no one to share it with.
When he finally relented and said he’d a least meet her, Ted went on and on about the plans he had made. “Pick here up here and you can walk to a park nearby. She loves nature.”
“How do you know what she loves?” John asked. But Ted only smiled.
There was no avoiding it. All the thought and energy that Ted had invested were worth a night of awkward confusion. Besides, he just said he’d meet her, not that he’d call her back. Still not understanding what he was doing there, he walked in the door and asked the man behind the counter if Meg was there. “I’ve been expecting you,” the man replied through a thick grin. “Your friend, Ted, told me all about your situation. I’ll go get Meg.”
John turned tomato red as the blood rushed to his cheeks, half out of embarrassment and half out of rage. Situation? Just what was his situation as Ted saw it and what gave him the right to share it with every person he met on the street? It’s one thing having your best friend know you’re a hopeless romantic, lonely and afraid you’ll never find someone who will love you unconditionally—it’s quite another thing taking out a billboard to that effect. Just as John was about to storm out, the man returned and with him Meg.
He answered the phone the next day, glad the expected call had come at last.
“So?” Ted asked excitingly. “What did you think?”
“She came home with me,” said John with an impish grin.
“Yes!! I knew she was perfect for you—just what you need,” said Ted with obvious relief.
“You’re a good friend—though I owe you one for the way you went about it,” replied John.
“I deserve that,” Ted said and laughed. “So I guess your date went well then?”
“Whew, she wore me out!” John admitted. “I’ll be getting a lot more exercise from now on.”
“Yeah you will--you dawwwwg!” Ted joked. “Did you make all the arrangements?”
“I did indeed.” Said John. “I got all her papers and on the way home stopped and bought all the accoutrement. I’m going to have a new door to the back yard installed next week. I hope you won’t be jealous about me having a new best friend and all. After all, you did set us up.”
Ted smiled and said, “Hey man, what are friends for.”

Nervously, I swept my fingers through my hair. I stopped myself before I repeated the motion, forcing myself to keep my arm at my side. I’d only get one chance to make a good impression, and I convinced myself that this time I’d make it count. I’d messed up in the past (when it came to love, this cheetah did not prosper), but this blind date was a fresh start.

I scanned the area. It wasn’t too crowded, and I was glad for the elbowroom and the relative privacy. I spied the all-you-can-eat buffet and my stomach rumbled, making me wonder how rude it would be to start eating right now.

Suddenly she appeared – a vision of leonine beauty that made me wonder if I’d been out in the sun too long. I was lost in the bounce of her fur and the swivel of her hips as she walked towards me. I hoped I at least appeared calm as I cleared my throat.

“Hi. I’m Pete.” I said, trying to sound my most suave.

“Oh wow. I’m used to introducing myself first.” She replied in a singsong voice. “I’m Daisy, and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just some lemonade.” I said dejectedly.

“Anything wrong?” she asked caringly. “You can help yourself to the buffet, if you like.”

“It’s not that.” I assured. “I’m just here one a blind date, and I hoped it was with you.”

“Sorry, I’ve got a fiancé.”

I shrugged my shoulders – it figured. She continued, “But I think I know where your date is.” As she left my eyes followed; it was hard not to stare at the way her tail swayed.

Daisy returned a few minutes later with two surprises. First, that the lemonade was pink, which I’ve never liked. But the women with her overshadowed that. She was – well, not to sound speciesist, but the simple fact was she was a buzzard. I had to wonder how compatible we could be! I wondered what my friend Ben and his sister Tina had been thinking when they set this up – those hyenas always did have a weird sense of humor.

“Hi there, I’m Laura.” She said, as Daisy left us alone to talk. “You must be Pete. Sorry I’m late, I thought it said ‘Table 6’, not ‘Table 9’. I have a bit of dyscalculia.”

“That’s all right. Nobody’s perfect. Please sit down, unless you want to get some food now. You must be as hungry as I.”

“Actually, not just yet. You can go ahead if you want, though.”

I debated on waiting, but my stomach insisted otherwise. I excused myself and prepared a plate. True to her word, Laura waited until I was heading back, rising when they were about to bring out fresher food.

Soon enough we were chewing the fat in more ways than one. Causal conversation revealed that we had more in common that I’d suspected. My mood lightened, and I started thinking we had a chance at a friendship, if not more. Soon our bellies were full and we were waiting for the bill when Laura turned to me.

“So, this has been fun. But something’s been at the back of my mind. Tina told me you had a nickname – ‘Stinky’. Care to tell me about it?”

I groaned as soon as Laura said the word. Tina should’ve known better – that nickname and story had cost me so much potential happiness already. I sighed, and decided I should be honest; nothing ventured, nothing gained. “Well, it goes back to my early adolescent years. Long story short, I was trying to impress a girl, lost my balance, and slipped down a hill into a pile of … well, I don’t want to say while we’re still digesting. Anyway, I ended up smelling like… that for quite a while before it finally washed out.” I hung my head a bit, almost afraid to see her response.

But she only gave me a small, pleasant grin. “Is that all? I’ve had dates that did that on purpose because they thought it was a turn-on. Of course, some of them called it ‘cologne’." She added a wink. “Don’t sweat it; like you said earlier, nobody’s perfect.”

I couldn’t resist smiling back at her. As we left, I knew I’d found someone I could always talk to, and if I was lucky, maybe more.

Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. No, she 'knew' this wasn’t a good idea. For the most part, she had always thought herself smart enough to avoid the whole “manipulate your friend into going out with a complete stranger”, yet for the life of her she hadn’t been able to say no! Was she that desperate for male companionship that she had forsaken her ‘rules of dating’ just so she could say she went out on a date? Her friend no doubt thought so to have set this up, and while she had good intentions, it was seriously ticking her off.

Taking a calming breath, she reminded herself that she had already agreed and while she wanted nothing more than to run for the hills, she couldn’t. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad and the guy might actually turn out to be nice?

A sardonic snort was her own response since the guys she had dated in the past had all been a disappointment. Since she hadn’t chosen this one, would it be different? The desire to flee had to be suppressed if she really wanted to find out.

“I can do this. There’s nothing to it,” she repeated over and over again to herself. Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall and then smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, feeling uncomfortable in it. The date had been set for 8:00 pm but she had been trying to get ready since at least six o’clock. That’s how long she had been trying to keep calm and not call her friend to just cancel the whole thing off. She hated blind dates.

She almost forgot to breathe when the clock struck exactly eight and the door bell rang several seconds later. He was on time? Well, that certainly raised her hopes some as she took a deep breath. She paused to check her hair in the mirror and pulled the door open, and then froze.

A grin was spread over his handsome features, eyebrows raised in an almost suggestive manner and dark hair combed neatly. He was wearing black slacks and a light gray dress shirt and oddly enough, tennis shoes. There was a bouquet of flowers in his hand and his lean frame was slouched against the wall that came to shield the front door from any on the street. “Hey gorgeous,” he muttered.

Her hand tried to slam the door but he beat her to it and she soon found herself being slammed against the unforgiving wall. A startled cry left her lips as the flowers were scattered around them. Her breathing turned into harsh pants as her eyes stared up at him in unmasked terror. “W-what are you doing here, Clay?” she asked, and she willed to keep her voice from shaking.

Those green eyes were the same and his lips were twisted into the familiar cruel smirk. His fingers trailed along her shoulder and then across her throat as she shuddered. As long as she lived, she’d never forget the power behind those slender digits. “I’m here for our blind date,” he finally spoke.

If her eyes could widen more, they would have and she was stunned into temporary silence. The truth was, she couldn’t think of what to say to this man that had made the last year of her life a living hell. She was still completely terrified of him and what he might do to her.

He had been the worst relationship she had and the reason she had moved to this new city several months ago. She had sicced the cops on him and then ran as far as her bank account would take her. She had thought she had seen the last of him, but she was wrong. “Please,” she whimpered as he lifted a hand to her face.

“Please what, love?” he asked. The dangerous glint in his eyes betrayed his sensual voice. Once again, those fingers traced her features lovingly as he had done on their first dates. Her whole body was shaking uncontrollably when he gripped her jaw firmly. “Please. That’s the word you used the most. ‘Please, stop’ or ‘Please, don’t hurt me’.” He chuckled quietly and pressed his lips against her ear. “I missed it.”

Closing the still open door with his foot, he grabbed her and shoved her further into the house. She tripped but he dragged her to her feet. His hands were harsh, bruising her already recovered pale skin. As they passed her small living room her eyes caught sight of the wall clock once again. 8:05 pm. In five minutes, her blind date had turned into her worst nightmare.

For all the nervous excitement that should accompany the prospect of a first date, especially with someone you've never even met before, this one had to be a letdown. Keddie was attractive enough ... tall, blond, a bit awkward, not very comfortable with herself, but with a friendly face and the whitest teeth I've ever seen. Just the same, it took no more than twenty seconds for both of us to understand that this was going to be a double date that would hold more excitement for Nathan and Tonia than it would for Keddie and me. Keddie was, for lack of a more captivating description, pleasant. She made an effort to be liked, laughed kindly and appropriately, talked with obvious relish about her role on the Spokes Folks Cycling Club, and with equally obvious regret about her injuries from a recent wipeout that would prevent her from participating with the team until summer. As she spoke, she involuntarily stroked the Velcro cuff that splinted her badly broken left thumb, clearly still suffering some pain from the accident. Keddie told me she had recently been hired as a Commercial Traffic Assistant at a local TV station, and she was amazed at how difficult it was for a right-handed person to get ordinary things done without the use of her left thumb.

I thought it odd that Keddie avoided making eye contact with me as she spoke, and equally odd that I didn't really care if we made eye contact or not. Still, there were worse ways to spend an evening. We saw the movie, drank the cocktails, ate the unidentifiable nibbly things, laughed at the bad jokes, talked about the people we both knew, and agreed with contrived enthusiasm with Keddie's closest friend Tonia whenever she exclaimed how thrilling it was that Keddie and I had finally met, each of us allowing the other the latitude of saying we'd have to get together again, even though it was clear to both of us that there was no need to exchange numbers. Towards the end of the evening Keddie talked a bit about her family: she was the youngest girl, the third of four kids. Her mother's nursing skills had come in very handy following the accident, and she was looking forward to the summer when her older brother and sister would be back in town. But she seemed to be reluctant to discuss her father, and Nathan later told me that her parents were going through a bit of a tough time just now.

Now that Keddie has been missing for almost two months, I wish I had made the effort to know her better. More to the point, I confess that I wish I had been more curious about her life. I've had trouble understanding how somebody who seems so ... ordinary, I guess ... could now be the subject of such odd circumstances. She arrived at work on time on that Tuesday morning, but her co-workers later told the police that she really wasn’t doing her job that day. She was having particular difficulty with her broken thumb, and finding reasons to excuse herself from tasks. She left the office at 4:30, as usual, but never arrived home. Later, Police discovered that her car was still parked in the company lot, and $40 had been withdrawn from her savings account.

At first, it was tempting to believe that she simply decided to leave home and start a new life in a new town, but why would she do that? She didn't seem to be unhappy, and even though there may have been some stresses at home, why wouldn't Tonia have noticed? Why had no one been contacted? And other than a mere $40, why had none of her bank accounts or credit cards been touched? But the circumstances became particularly chilling on Tonia’s birthday, almost five weeks after Keddie’s disappearance. That morning, Tonia received an e-mail from Keddie, wishing her a happy birthday and apologizing for not being there. The e-mail had been written on Monday, the day before Keddie disappeared, but had been timed to be sent on Tonia's birthday, thirty-three days later. It’s difficult for me to put into words the effect this had on everyone, but particularly on Keddie’s family, and her good friend Tonia. It was a message from the unknown, the unknowable, the unreachable. Whatever conclusions her friends and family might have comforted themselves with in the meantime were now being brought into question by Keddie herself. Rather than providing answers, Keddie’s message to Tonia had raised only more questions; questions that invited answers that are gravely less encouraging.

Keddie, we should have known you. I should have known you.

There he was…..Sitting at the corner table of the restaurant. Dark brown hair, crystal blue eyes, chiseled chin, muscular build. Exactly the way June’s friend Tammy described Jonathan. She walked up to him, slowly, trying not to have him notice how nervous she was. Then their eyes met. Oh, those crystal blue eyes just made June melt. They were just like puppy dog eyes.

June smiled. Jonathan smiled. Jonathan was such a gentleman. He pulled the chair out for June. But he wasn’t paying attention and he pushed the chair a little too hard. Poor June got squished between the table and chair. He apologized and asked if she was okay. She told him she was fine and to not worry about it.

Jonathan sat down and they started asking each other questions, such as where they each lived and what type of work they did. Things seemed to be going a little better for June. That is, until the waiter started pouring the red wine. The bottle accidentally slipped and wine got all over June’s new white silk dress. June was starting to think she should’ve just pretended she was sick and stayed home. She ran into the ladies room and tried getting as much of the stain out as possible.

When she returned to the table, she learned that Jonathan ordered for her. He ordered the shrimp scampi for her. Little did Jonathan realize that June is severely allergic to seafood. When she told Jonathan she was allergic, he got very upset and tears came to his eyes. When June saw this, she tried to cheer him up, but it was very hard for her, because everything seemed to be going wrong that night.

They were able to order a new meal for June and the rest of the evening went fairly well. After dinner, they went to the coffee shop down the road and ordered some lattes. They sat in the shop until 1 am talking and laughing. They exchanged phone number that night. Jonathan called June the next day asking if they could get together. Despite of everything that happened the night before, June agreed.

And to this day, June is so happy she went on that blind date. They’ve been married for 15 years this past April. And they have 3 wonderful children.

I recently went to a play with a date. She was blind,
however I was not. I translated the spoken word into braile for her because we were so far in the back seats. She was satisfied as a good date should be. I offered her cake.
And now the play:

ME AND THE FOX AND ME

ALICE: "QUIET OR I'LL BLOW YOUR THROAT UP."

DALE: "ONCE YOU PUT THE DOLL IN WATER, IT WILL NO LONGER BE DRY."

ALICE: "TAKE MY ADVICE OR I'LL SPANK YOU WITHOUT PANTS."

MARTIN: "HOW CAN I USE MY INTESTINES AS A GIFT TO YOU??"

DALE: " BEWARE! YOUR BONES ARE GOING TO BECOME DISCONNECTED!"

ALICE: "Greetings, large person. Let us not forget to form a team up together and go into the country to inflict the pain of our karate feets on some of the giant lizard persons."

MRS.CARTER: "You always use violence. I should've ordered glutinous rice chicken!!"

MARTIN: "Who gave you the nerve to get killed here?"

DALE: "Who gave me the nerve to get killed here?"

ED#2: "A normal person wouldn't steal those pituitaries."
ALICE : "Am I damn unsatisfied to be killed in this way?"

THE END