“I had a blind date,” said the mid-30’s female Uber rider in Oak Park, a leafy, educated Chicago suburb.
“How was it?” I asked on the gorgeous spring Monday night.
“Not sure,” she said. “He was pleasant and good looking. It was a nice dinner.”
“That sounds positive. What was wrong?”
She paused. “I had sex with a different guy on Friday night. It was the second date, you know, he bought me flowers.”
Oh, the things people tell their Uber drivers. She sensed my reaction and backtracked. “I recently got divorced so I’m new to this. Guys should know how to treat a lady; flowers always work.”
“Yes, I think so.” FTD should reach out to her for a testimonial ad. My gut is any man in People’s Republic of Oak Park need only to show up with flowers and the password “Bernie Sanders” to bed a woman.
She said, “But, when I texted the Friday night guy this weekend, he took forever to answer and was like, ‘Why are you acting weird? Stop crowding me.’ All I did was say like, ‘Hey, how you doing?’ So, I’m not sure where it’s at with him versus the blind date guy.”
Blind date guy sounds better to me. We turned toward her destination. She asked, “How old are you?”
When I answered, she said, “You’re too old for me. And too young for my mom.”
Being a polite Uber driver, I didn’t tell the rider she was too old for me, too. 🙂
Milwaukee Avenue 