"Sorry I won't be picking you up," his e-mail said. "If he can't drive it means too many DUIs or he's on parole," my friends assured me. " Like most people, I'm always nervous to meet a blind date.Unlike most people, it's not because I think he may not like me or think I'm attractive; I'm much more worried about what I'll think of him.Dating was not much more than a home page that said "I flip between dating men who are like George Costanza and men who are like George Clooney ... If romance is a numbers game, it only makes sense for me to pick a biggish number." The bizarre pressure of needing a date to write about on the Internet was standing in front of me like a fat woman in a bright orange suit holding a Drive Slowly sign as I trundled past, a single person in the diamond lane.Driving, slowly or otherwise, was apparently something my date did not have to worry about. It's not that I am a loser, though." Hmmm, that last part would be up to me, surely.In Germany they make crosses and things out of the twisted wreckage of the actual cars to mark the spot." "Of the European countries I like Holland the best; it's like a second home to me," he said, thankfully not completely picking up the conversational thread I had started. I didn't comment but silently recalled an incident at a train station in Amsterdam when I changed my mind about a ticket and the agent threw a golf pencil at me and screamed, "IS THIS HOW YOU DO THINGS IN YOUR OWN COUNTRY?" Never mind that the answer to that question is, of course, yes, the experience left me scarred.
It was the perfect season to launch the dating Web site that I was sure would launch my career, and I was going on my very first date for it.
"I guess it seems too good to be true that a twenty-one-year-old who is working her way through medical school by lingerie modeling is interested in me and 'up for anything,' but I click on the link to her Web site anyway.