The Weirdest (and Most Strangely Satisfying) First Date Ever
Long before I got married, I tried several dating services. This was back when online dating was still kinda taboo. And dating services were probably even more taboo.
But hey, I'm a trailblazer.
One of the services I used was called "It's Just Lunch."
I'm going to spare you all the gory details, but $3,000 later, I discovered that "It's Just Lunch" was severely lacking on the female side of the matchmaking. As a result, I got paired up with every single new male member, no matter whether they matched my criteria or not.
"Look Jen, we know he's 56 years old with four kids [one of them was my age] and is still legally married, but he's got a big heart." (Wish I could say I made that one up.)
Suffice it to say I had some interesting first dates. One such date really sticks out. Let's call him Jim. We met at Fleming's in the West End area of Nashville (ironically for dinner, not lunch).
From the start, this guy was just... off.
After a date filled with revelations such as how he actually lived in an extended stay motel, intermingled with him showing me paycheck stubs from his previous few months of employment but wouldn't tell me what he did for a living (I'm assuming it maybe wasn't legal or involved actual snake oil), he really hit it out of the "weirdness" ballpark.
He wanted to walk me to my car but asked if we could stop off at his car first so he could give me something. My Spidey senses tingled, but I went because curiosity is a strong force, and because it was a well-lit parking lot (and because I was stupid). As we walked in the direction of his car, he asked me if I ever took a ride in a (his words) "high performance sports convertible."
No, in fact, I had not.
He then asked if I wanted to go for a spin.
No, in fact, I did not.
I chose wisely, because a few seconds later, we were standing in front of a tri-colored Mazda Miata (one of the colors was primer).
He saved the best for last. Jim popped open his trunk, tied it open with a rope, and dug around for a few seconds. He emerged with a blender.
Like an actual kitchen blender.
He handed it to me. I was stunned and could mutter only, "Why are you giving me a blender?" His reply will forever be etched in my brain.
"I had extras."
How and why did this man have "extra" blenders in the trunk of his tiny clown car? I'll never know.
To me, the funniest part of the story is I used that dang blender for like 10 years. It was kinda bittersweet when it finally broke.
The moral of the story? Good or bad, people will remember you if you dare to be different. Okay, there are admittedly A LOT of other and better morals to that story, but this one fits my agenda.
People, let's dare to be different. Be the blender guy (but less creepy). Be the girl who dances in her car. Be the dude who helps the old lady across the street. Be the friend who doesn't talk behind her friends' backs. Stand up for your message proudly and without fear. It's really not as hard as you think to stand out anymore in this homogenized world.
Here's to hoping that some day, someone gives you a free blender,