2009/08/25

PROMPTuesday #70 – Blind Date

DaGoddess @ 04:49

I have been on blind dates. Several. But one sticks out most in my mind and that’s the one that will feature in today’s PROMPT.

The rules for this week: Make it up or give us a little truth is stranger than fiction. Bonus points and adoration from afar: If you make it up, include “Finland”, “chenille robe”, and “casserole” in your submission.

I was working at a local home electronics store not too awfully far from home. We had a great spokesman for the chain and it was a place at which everyone wanted to work or to at least visit. We were busy. I was working as a cashier. Nothing spectacular, mind you, but it was a job and I liked it. The salespeople were a mixed bag of nuts: St. John (obviously the religious guy who was cute but shy); Dave K (who had dreams of management dancing in his eyes); EMT Matt (who was part John Cusack, part Jon Cryer and who adored me but I couldn’t see that for the longest time); Candy (an actress/model who was killing time until she could make the big move to Hollywood); Beth (the rocker who had a band and was tough as nails); a handful of others, and Dan (he ruled the salesfloor from his wheelchair). Of all the blathering, gum-chewing non-sequiturs out on the salesfloor, Candy, Beth, and Dan quickly became my crew.

Candy was my shopping, self-improvement, goofy as hell buddy. I’d accompany her to modeling sessions and we’d obsess over our thighs on a regular basis as we split a sliver of cheesecake, dooming ourselves to even wider thighs (and at that time, I was crazily thin — I don’t know why I worried). She’d laugh at me as I’d pick my feet before we’d cross railroad tracks — a silly superstition I’d picked up somewhere. Then she’d tell me of a friend of hers from high school who also did the same thing. Except one time. And then that friend died. “Just one more reason for me to continue picking up my feet, Candy. I’m not ready to die yet.” Then she’d be off giggling like crazy again. Then she moved. To Hollywood, which may as well have been Finland, but whatever. Sigh.

Beth would be the one to drag me to band rehearsals because she hated being the only girl there. I liked music, so it worked out well. We’ll forget the drummer I dated for a while as he really has little bearing on the story. Let’s just say that this is the time I started learning about lighting for bands, sneaking into clubs because I wasn’t yet 21 (I was barely 19 at this point), and I also got to hang out with Beth’s friend Laura who was a photographer. I got to play model for a few sessions and I loved it. I’d lounge about in a chenille robe, jeans, and nothing else (yes, I did a few nude shoots) prior to the session, feeling pampered as the girls worked their magic on my makeup and hair. I also loved learning more photography tips from Laura because she knew studio lighting. Beth was also the first friend who hosted an adult toy party. I went and blushed the whole time. But I laughed hysterically when some of the (slightly) older guests mimed outrageous acts with some of the props. It was always fun with Beth around. Until she moved. Sigh.

Dan was something else altogether. He was funny, smart, geeky, and goofy. Never once did you get any sense of him hating being stuck in a wheelchair. It was just his base of operations. He had a few girlfriends who’d stop by from time to time, all of whom were cute and sweet, but just self-absorbed enough to not put in any real time with him. The rest of the time, he had his posse of guys over to his apartment for cards and beer and music.

One night, I went to a big party at Dan’s place and met the cutest, sweetest guy I’d met in the longest time. His name was Kip. From Idaho. Dark hair in the pretty much standard uniform of the mid-80s — the mullett. But he was cute. His eyes were bright and clear. His smile was genuine and toothy. His laugh…a man with a good laugh is always a bonus and man oh man, his laugh was great. We hit it off right away. We spent the whole night talking and laughing, holding hands, just enjoying each other. He asked me out. And I said yes. So, the next night, Dan had us over for dinner, a casserole, wouldn’t you know. Because Kip was picky about his food, we set up his plate extra special for him so he could eat his food in the way he liked best. You see, Kip happened to be blind. Not 100%, but enough to be considered legally blind. Hence, the blind date (quit groaning…I can hear it from here). Dinner went great until after the drinks started flowing and somehow one of the other guys ended up throwing up on the table during cards. I did my best to help clean up (I didn’t like vomit even then), and then Kip and I got the hell out of there. We went to sit out in a hill somewhere, talking, laughing, holding hands, and finally kissing. He was a good kisser.

The three weeks he was in town went awfully quick. We spent as much time together as we could. Many nights were spent watching movies like Monty Python, Kentucky Fried Movie, etc. I was the designated reader since Kip couldn’t see the smaller print and the rest of the group was generally too blitzed to do more than burp or barf or throw cards. Still, it was fun — except for the casserole reappearance (nobody likes to see green beans a second time like that, though, have you ever noticed that green beans always seem to show up in vomit even if you haven’t eaten any? I think there’s a special reserve somewhere inside us that stores them indefinitely).

The most fun we had during his time with us was taking Kip out to drive. Yes, I said out to drive. Essentially he was gradually losing his vision and the little he had left was peripheral. It wasn’t easy for him to drive well, but he could do it with help. On the farm where he lived in Idaho, it wasn’t really a big deal as they had lots of room. But in the city, we’d have to wait for early mornings and then head down to the shopping mall parking lot. With Kip behind the wheel, Dan and I would position ourselves to cover the angles we knew he couldn’t see. And then we’d begin.

It was hard to say goodbye to this man I’d only known for a few weeks. He was absolutely wonderful, cute, funny, loving, and a great kisser. But he had to go back because college was starting up again soon for him and because his family felt he’d do better on the farm. We made promises to stay in touch but after a couple months the calls and letters slowed to a standstill.

I don’t know if he ever thinks of me, but I sure do think about him. My favorite blind date.

If for some reason you know blind Kip from Moscow, Idaho, whose best friend Dan in the wheelchair lived in Escondido back in the mid-80s, tell him I said hi.

3 Comments

  1. Aww… that was sweet. :heart:

    Comment by Pam — 2009/08/25 @ 06:02

  2. I want someone to know Kip!

    That’d be a great conclusion. You know, when you get married.

    Comment by San Diego Momma — 2009/08/27 @ 20:23

  3. hahahahahahaha!

    Chances are he found some great farm girl who took him for a roll in the hay. And good for him. Oddly, he looked a lot like another guy I ended up dating (or the other guy looked like him, whatever) — Roland. Now THERE was a guy I could have married…

    Sigh, all the woulda coulda men…

    But it would be cool if someone knew him, huh?

    Comment by DaGoddess — 2009/08/27 @ 20:42

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