In the days before Match.com and eHarmony, blind dates were arranged by friends or family. Mine was envisioned by a recently hired co-worker, Teri. Over lunch our conversation turned to the sad state of the dating pool. I bemoaned the fact that none my last five dates warranted a relationship.Thirty-two years ago today, I met a blind date who changed my life forever. This is the way it happened:
And they lived happily ever after!
“I need to date around,” I sighed.
“I could set you up with a couple of guys I worked with before I got laid off. One is real macho and the other is sweet and sensitive,” she proffered.
“I’ve had macho. I’ll take sweet and sensitive.”
“I’ll give him a call. Maybe we can all go to lunch.”
When Sweet and Sensitive called, we chatted with ease. In fact we were so comfortable we decided not to include Teri on our Friday night date.
Friday, October 29, 1982, was a fun day at work. We all dressed in costume. Everyone brought food. We turned the music up and played all afternoon. If Facebook had been around at the time I’m certain some embarrassing photos would have been posted.
When the clock struck five, I had one hour to turn from a wicked witch into an appealing first date. I raced to retrieve my 2 year-old daughter from the babysitter. Once home, I threw her a cup of apple juice and turned on cartoons. Zipping down the hall I discarded clothes and a long dark wig. I ripped off the false eyelashes and hooked nose as I jumped into a still cold shower. Shampoo flying, I washed my hair, scrubbed green paint off my face, and the remaining spirit gum from my nose. The hairdryer wasn’t the only thing turned on turbo as I dried my hair and quickly reapplied makeup. At exactly 6:00 pm Baby and I were dressed and peeking out the window when Sweet and Sensitive pulled into the driveway.
“He’s cute,” Baby said.
“Yes, he is.” I replied while hauling out my mental checklist: attractive – check; prompt--check; suit (employed) – check; late model car (not a beat-up truck w/empty cans in the flatbed)—check. So far, so good, I thought as I opened the door.
“Come in. I’m Lacene. This is my daughter.”
He smiled and shook her hand.
“Thank you for letting me pick you up right after work,” he said. “I work here in Norman, but live in Oklahoma City. I thought it would be more efficient to pick you up before I go home. I'll take a quick shower and we can go on to dinner. I made reservations at a restaurant close to my apartment. I’ll bring you home before you turn into a pumpkin." He finally took a breath.
I had some concerns about a stop at his apartment, but I liked the idea of a restaurant which required reservations. I had a date with one man who thought Furr’s Cafeteria was the perfect place to celebrate a new job. It was also the last date with him.
“That would be fine,” I said. “Would you like to sit and have a drink first?”
“If you don’t mind, why don’t we go on to Oklahoma City. We’ll have a 45-minute drive to visit.”
“Okay, let me grab my purse.”
He opened the car door for me and placed Baby in the back seat. He made sure the tail of my dress wasn’t hanging out before he shut the door. Good manners—check.
Baby screamed, “Oh, Mommy! My fingers!”
I jumped out of the car and grabbed her from the back seat. He was already at my side.
“What happened?” he asked.
He was so distraught I hated to tell him. “You slammed her fingers in the door.”
“Let’s get some ice on them.”
He took the screaming child from me while I dug for my house keys. I opened the door. He raced to the freezer, grabbed an ice cube and placed it on her fingers. She sat in the crook of his arm contemplating him with teary eyes. She had stopped screaming the moment he took her from me.
He knows how to handle children – check.
After a few minutes of ice and soothing words, Baby let us look at her fingers. They were red, but not bruised or broken. Luckily they were caught in the rubber weather-stripping and not the door itself. We breathed a sigh a relief that this date would not take place in the ER. We took her on to the babysitter’s where he insisted on paying.
Whoa, that wasn’t even on my checklist, I thought. I never had a date offer to pay the babysitter, much less insist on it. I may just marry this guy.
As we drove to his apartment I learned he was recently divorced after seven years of marriage. He had a five-year-old son. His visitation on alternate weekends never seemed enough, so he kept his son as much as possible during the week. His business administration degree came from OU. He went on to get his CPA while working for Arthur Young. The hours were long and hard on his marriage. When he and his wife separated he took a job in the private sector. He was now a financial manager at an oil well instrumentation company in Norman. He had been Teri’s boss before she got laid off.
Ahhh, that explains his efficiency and promptness. I like it.
I gestured with my hands as we talked, and saw a flash of black. I looked down at my hands. To my horror I realized my nails were still painted black. (In 1982 Goth was not a trend, nor was blue, green or black nail polish. It was just weird!)
“Oh my gosh! I am so embarrassed,” I said. “In my rush to get ready, I forgot to take off the black nail polish from my witch costume.”
“It’s okay,” he winked. “I thought you were just kinky.”
I blushed and contemplated crawling under the seat. What kind of checklist is he keeping?
“Don’t worry about it. You look fine. It doesn’t matter," he said and meant it.Our conversation continued until we reached his apartment.
“Come on in,” he said opening my car door. I followed him to his first floor apartment. He unlocked the door and held it for me. I entered tentatively not knowing what to expect. I dated men in the past who decorated their living rooms with weight benches and barbells and smelled of old gym socks.He stripped off his coat and tie. “I promise I won’t be more than 20 minutes. Make yourself comfortable. Here’s the TV remote.”
I took the remote and set down on the couch. From that vantage point, I could see 400 square feet of tastefully decorated space. Ornamental pillows perched atop a crisply-made bed. A scented candle adorned a tidy kitchen counter. A bar set with two place-mats created the dining space. The tiny living room walls were hung with tasteful artwork. I was impressed. Did he do this? Or was the ex-wife still in the picture?
True to his word, he walked out of the bathroom 20 minutes later. Dressed in a starched white shirt, jeans, cowboy boots, and a Houndstooth blazer slung over his shoulder, he was a vision of masculinity. I followed his well-fitting jeans out the front door and tried not to stumble as I enjoyed the view. No well-worn circle from his chewing tobacco--check.
“Do you like Japanese food?” he asked.
“I love all kinds of Asian food. I was raised in the Philippines and Guam.”
“Good, I’ve made reservations at a Japanese restaurant that cooks your food on a Hibachi grill in front of you.”
“Perfect, that will be fun,” I smiled glad that it wasn’t a stuffy formal restaurant.
“We are a little early. Do you want to have a drink in the bar while we wait for our table?”
“I’d love to.” I said eager for a something to calm my nerves.
Over drinks I learned his mother and aunt had decorated his apartment, but the tidiness was all him. I told him: about my nomadic childhood as a preacher’s kid, and a missionary kid; how I married two weeks after my eighteenth birthday to our much older music and youth director; about the dissolution of our nine-year marriage, and the joy I found in my daughter. I shared how I had been laid-off from my well-paying job as a landman with the oil bust of ‘82. Being an unemployed single parent with no health insurance was a scary proposition. I took the first job I could find even though it meant a pay cut. I met Teri when she came to work after being laid off.
We were deep in conversation when the hostess interrupted to tell us our table was ready. She led us to a long table in front of the grill. He pulled my chair and seated me. After perusing the menus, we placed our order. A few minutes later, I leaned over and whispered, "I think all that liquid has gone straight through me. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the ladies’ room.” I stood up and pushed my chair with the back of my legs. The chair stuck. I gave it another little nudge. It fell onto the folding screen behind us. The screen crashed to the floor startling everyone in the restaurant. All eyes were on me as I reached down to pick up my chair.
Sweet and Sensitive leaned over and whispered in my ear,
“If you’re not embarrassed, you ought to be.”
“I am. You horse’s behind!” I said angrily.
As I straightened, I caught his teasing eyes. The embarrassment faded and I laughed with him. After all he did slam Baby's fingers in the door. In a way it felt like we were even. This guy definitely had potential.
Did you see the fingers of God’s grace in my life? I found it much more traumatic to be involuntarily unemployed than to go through a divorce. If I had not taken the job as an administrative assistant, I wouldn’t have met Teri. Teri wouldn’t have introduced me to what I have called, for the last thirty years, God’s gift of grace to me, my Soul Mate.
