Blind Date in Bismarck

Sorry for the delay, my fans, but finally, the much anticipated blog posting… So, before I moved to North Dakota, I filled out an e-Harmony profile to investigate the quantity and quality of my dating possibilities. Since I thus far refuse to pay for a real account, during a free communication weekend, I began communicating with Courteous Cody. Also since I refuse to pay for service, I can not see pictures of my matches, making the first meeting a truly blind date.

Courteous Cody started out strong in that since he knew that I was new in town, he made all the plans and then sent me an email with the time, directions, address, and two attached pdf maps (one zoomed in, one zoomed out) so that I would be able to find my way to the designated location. He then sent a follow-up email stating, “One more thing I forgot to mention yesterday, tomorrow is all my treat!” While I appreciate the sentiment, OF COURSE it is your treat. There is no need to clarify. It is a first date, and if you aren’t willing to pay now, then what hope do we have. In fact, the main reason I continue to date in the first place is because a girl’s gotta’ eat.

Anyway, said date was to the Majestica Theater, which incidentally my co-workers had been discussing the night before. The Majestica is apparently fairly new in the area, and it is a dinner club that does comedy, magic, and hypnotist shows, depending on the night. I was hoping for the hypnotist, but it was magic night. (Maybe for Bismarck it was a good show, though I didn’t find it all that impressive. It was mildly entertaining, but nothing to write home (i.e. blog) about.) Anyhow, C.C. warned me to come hungry because he heard the food at the place was really good, though he had not yet been there himself.

Despite the maps and directions, I managed to get twisted around on the way because I was coming from a different direction that originally planned. I texted C.C. to say that I might be a few minutes late, but thought that I was back on track. He texted back to tell me not to worry about it, just to drive safely. I finally made it, and he was waiting for me in the lobby. For a totally blind date, he could have been worse. He wasn’t horribly hideous, disfigured, or notably abnormal looking. Just a regular guy, glasses, not too fat, but not skinny, normal hair, regular height, etc.

We sat, ordered drinks, and he ordered an appetizer (mozzarella sticks). They arrived, six of them. I ate my three, he ate two and then let the waitress take the other one away. After looking at the menu for a bit, which I thought was slightly overpriced, I asked him what he was going to get. To my secret relief, he said that he thought he would get the sirloin, which was what I wanted to get. The waitress came back, and for some reason he ordered first.

CC: “I’ll have the sirloin.”

Waitress: “The 6 or the 10 ounce?”

CC: “O^2, the 6 ounce will be fine.”

Waitress: “And for you?”

Jen: Silently in head - WHAT? The 6 ounce? Are you kidding me? Small children order the 6 ounce steak. The 10 ounce steak is only three more dollars. You told me to come to this date hungry, and now I’m hungry, and you have the audacity to order only the six ounce steak, which means that I have to only order the six ounce steak so that I don’t look like a gigantic pig. What kind of man orders a six ounce steak???

Jen: Out loud - “I’ll have the six ounce sirloin, as well.”

Commence generic conversation with Courteous Cody for the next hour during dinner. The only notable highlight of this conversation included the following exchange toward the beginning of conversation (you know, before we had really talked about anything at all):

CC: “So, I had a misconception about you. I thought based on your profile that you were going to be really into politics and that it was going to be something really important to you.”

Jen: “Um, I don’t understand what the misconception is.”

CC: “That I thought you would enjoy talking about politics.”

Jen: “Um, yeah, I don’t understand what the misconception is.”

Somehow we managed to make it out of this cyclical chat, though somehow the misunderstanding remains.

Towards the end of the otherwise unremarkable dinner and conversation, the waitress came back over to see if we wanted dessert during the magic show.

Jen: Silently in head - “Hmm, maybe this is why he only wanted the 6 ounce steak and didn’t eat his vegetables or half the potatoes, because he is saving room for dessert.”

CC: Immediately before Jen has a change to speak out loud - “No thanks, we’re all set.”

Jen: Silently in head - “I wonder if I’ll be able to find a McDonald’s on the way home so my growling stomach doesn’t keep me awake tonight. I hope I make it through the show without passing out.”

Ok, so I do exaggerate a bit for entertainment value, and I did get enough to eat, but I wouldn’t say that I was overly stuffed or that I couldn’t have enjoyed some dessert, especially since they had crème brulee, my favorite.

On the Jen scale of dating, the best date would obviously be the kind where I meet the love of my life and we live happily ever after. The second best kind of date is the kind that goes so horribly awry that it could be used as a sitcom plot. And the worst kind of date is the kind that is neither amazing or horrible, just utterly awash in mundane mediocrity.

Let me repeat again that the remainder of the evening was the worst kind of date…