Tom Cruise

Here we go again…blind date numero dos. 

My mom tells me she wants to set me up with a Tom Cruise look-alike she met over the weekend.  I say, “Ok.  Sounds promising (this is before Tom’s Katie Holmes, jump on Oprah’s couch debacle)!” 

I am 19, still in college, and he is 25.  The maturity difference is definitely a concern of mine, but willing to give-it-a-go. 

He picks me up.  My first thought, “I think my mom must have Tom Cruise mistaken with someone else.  There is absolutely ZERO resemblance. (For the sake of this story, we will still refer to him as Tom).”  Ok, so he does not look like Tom Cruise, but he is pretty good looking.  Things are looking up. 

He takes me to a local Mexican food spot.  Once we sit down, I quickly realize Tom is WAY smarter than me.  Every other word out of his mouth is beyond my vocabulary.  He obviously studied his SAT words and I did not.  As he talks about things that are flying over my head, I smile and nod, practicing my active listening skills I learned in my Communication Skills 101 class earlier that day.  I decide to put on my positive thinking hat, “This date is not a total disaster.  There is still hope.”  Famous last words.

After dinner, he suggests we go to this “club.”  This particular club happens to be the cheesiest one in town.  Again, I put on my positive thinking hat, “Well, since I am still in college, he probably thinks this is where I want to go.  Nice of him to consider my age.”  This club has themed rooms:  80s room, techno cage room, hip hop room, and last, but not least, karaoke room…can you guess where this is heading?  Don’t get me wrong, I love karaoke.  Let me rephrase, I love watching karaoke.  Always a good time watching people (not necessarily my date) make fools of themselves! 

He grabs us a couple of drinks and we settle into a table in the “karaoke room.”  All the sudden over the speaker, “Tom, you are next on stage, Tom.”  OMG!  OMG!  No, no, this is not happening.  Please let there be another Tom… 

My (I use this term loosely) Tom stands up and makes his way to the stage.  The intro to Frank Sinatra’s “Luck Be a Lady” tonight starts playing.  Every bone in my body aches with embarrassment for him and for me.  As he is pointing at me every time he sings the word “Lady” (which is a LOT), the two older women next to me lean over and say, “Oh!  How cute! Is that your boyfriend?”  I quickly reply, “Um…No!  First date….Blind date!” Put yourself in this situation, what are you supposed to say when he gets back to the table?  I manage to muster up, “Good job.” 

You think the story ends there, don’t you?  If only!  We jump in the car to leave and I think I am headed home.  Wrong!  I realize this marathon of a date is not over.  He wants to go to What-a-Burger.  We had finished a very large Mexican meal not two hours earlier, but I oblige.  After we roll out of the parking lot with our cheeseburgers, I think I am headed home.  Wrong again!  We pull over to a golf course.  He sets up a picnic for us in the dark on the fairway of the 1^st hole.

I’m sorry!  What exactly does he think is going to happen here?  I am VERY anti-PDA and we are a stone’s throw (or I guess a burger’s throw in this situation) from my parents house.  I force my burger down quickly thinking it will make this picnic end sooner.  After my final bite, he leans over for a kiss.  My reaction…turn my head and offer my cheek!  The ultimate rejection.  He took the hint and quickly packed up our romantic, fast food picnic and took me home.  Thankfully, I did not have to deal with the afterbirth of this date.  I think he read my signal LOUD AND CLEAR. No follow up calls, texts, or email to ignore.