Training Camp

I couldn't believe I was actually going on a blind date. Is this what my social life had come to? Going to meet up with virtually a perfect stranger? Ok, so it wasn't a totally blind date as we had met once before and exchanged a few texts here and there, but my general knowledge of the guy was pretty vague. He came with a decent amount of references through mutual acquaintances of ours, but some part of me still remained skeptical. You can’t believe everything you here, and people wear different “hats” when it comes to the way they behave around friends versus potential romantic interest. And how much can you really gauge someone during a first date anyway? After all, first dates are kinda like training camp: both parties bust their ass to prove they're better than the rest, survive the cuts, hope they fit the system and live to see another date.

So I went into this meeting like I would the trenches, preparing for every scenario possible. I even brought a deck of cards along, just in case his company completely sucked.
While I generally find random dates to be complete disasters in the making, one shouldn't discount their usefulness. They may not be Mr. Right but they were definitely good practice in case I happened to run into him at some point. It had been months since I had been on a date, so I had nearly forgotten how I was supposed to act on one.

Snaring a boy had not been an issue for me since my sophomore year of college. While I’m not the type to just hook up, I’m a shameless flirt, and take pride in my ability to work a room, and catch whomever’s attention it is that I'm seeking without being overly obnoxious or fake. In short, I just pride myself in being personable and genuine. It’s what happens next that always throws me for a loop. As it turns out, I’m the Terrell Owens of dating. I was more likely to bobble, or drop the pass than I was to catch it. I remember one first date that began with the tail of my dress getting caught in his car door, and ending in sheer embarrassment. Or another time, when I brought dinner over to a guy’s place. I had laid out this amazing spread from one of my favorite restaurants, “717” to surprise him. Then, my usual klutzy self attempted to sexily lean on the edge of the table. Turns out my lean was more Fat Joe than it was sexy. I soon discovered the importance of using all the screws in the IKEA box, and that the top of his table wasn't properly secured to the legs. The entire spread of food came crashing into my ass and all over his floor. Or there was the time I ate it on a slick floor in a pair of 4 in heels I had insisted on wearing, in front of an entire restaurant full of people. And in perhaps my worst scenario, I knocked the specials menu into an open flame at the table sending it into a small inferno before my date’s very eyes. He must have still found my Julia Robertsesque dinner manners endearing though, because I still got a second date. Needless to say, when it came to actually carrying out the deeds of dating, the perfect pass catch was usually just beyond my fingertips.

But then there were those beautiful moments, those one handed grabs right in the far corner of the end zone that remind me why I still play this game in the first place.

I spent what seemed like an entire week planning the perfectly crafted date. A cool place for dinner, a fun social event for afterwards (no not that you perverts), and an appropriate yet stunning outfit to match. My typical fashion ensemble consisted of a ball cap blue jeans and a beat up pair of cowboy boots. But thanks to the help of my manager Phil and my newly appointed stylist, Orly Shani, I was beginning to look more like a grown up, and less like one of those porn styled Abercrombie and Fitch catalogs.

So I had the outfit, the plans, now all I needed was a date. But apparently JetBlue had other plans. To prove my life is the true definition of Murphy’s Law, my date’s flight never left its gate. All flights.. Cancelled. Which left me all dressed up with no date “to go.” (Thanks a lot JetScrew.)

The funny thing is.. I really wasn't even mad. Sure, I had wasted a perfectly good outfit, had to cancel reservations, and had spent hours getting dolled up. At least, I still had an amazing time out with good people I’ve come to call my “New York family.” Somehow all that effort still seemed worth it. Maybe because for the first time, I felt great about myself and nothing else. I had spent so much time worrying about fitting into someone else’s system, and “making the cut” that I forgot that I was still a pretty awesome commodity myself. So me and my previous “Tony Romos” hadn’t meshed well. So what?.. Maybe I had just been playing for the wrong team (and not like that). Certainly, there has to be someone, somewhere looking for the talent and everything else I have to offer, that is willing to have me come workout, and give me a chance to prove myself. Hopefully for the sake of this Florida girl it’s not Buffalo.

The point is I had “suited up” and met my challenge head on. And that was really all that mattered. So maybe my game got called on account of weather? Who's to say we couldn't reschedule for another day? At least I knew I was ready for whatever this crazy dating game would throw at me. That’s what dating is for anyway… PRACTICE. After all, practice is everything. It may not make perfect, but it definitely works out the kinks. Who knows? Maybe I would find a team worthy enough to call my own. Besides, its only July and we’ve got a long season ahead of us. No excuses. Play like a champion today.

Oh, and I bet you're wondering if I ever got that date?? Well, some things are just better left a mystery.