I have been on one blind date in my entire life. It was a disaster. I thought we might at least have a couple things in common, since the friend I’d talked to had told me so much about him. We both like Jim Carrey. We were both a little goofy and geeky, and enjoyed quirky humor like Monty Python. We both dig The Monkees. Superficial stuff like that. However, that is where the similarities ended.
The adventure began when my friend told me about a guy she worked with and how much he like Jim Carrey, my favorite actor. After talking with her about him, I asked her to set us up. She was hesitant at first but agreed. She wasn’t sure we’d hit it off.
My date and I met in the parking lot of the travel agency where he and my friend worked. We took his car to the Native American Pow Wow we had planned to attend and it was in his car on the way that I began to doubt our compatibility.
“I don’t want you to think I’m arrogant,” he said, “but if I think I’m right about something, I usually am.” I couldn’t have predicted, however, that my worst dating nightmare was about to come true: that of being on a date with a self-absorbed moron! We had arrived and were casually walking through the tent areas housing the different Nations’ crafts and artworks.
Just before the Navajo booth, he said to me, “You know, the Navajos used to worship chickens a long time ago.”
I blinked, not sure I’d heard correctly. “Chickens?”
“Yes,” he replied, “Chickens. The Navajos used to worship chickens until they realized it wasn’t a masculine thing to worship so that’s why they stopped.” He chuckled a bit, seemingly amused at the thought of people worshiping Colonel Saunder’s specialty.
“No, they never worshiped chickens, Bob. Trust me.” I walked to a table across the aisle, a burning feeling beginning to grow in my belly.
“Here, let’s ask her.” He grabbed my arm and steered me toward a woman at a Navajo Nation jewelry vendor. He gave the woman a sweet smile, rubbed his chin with scholarly thought and said, “Your people used to worship chickens, didn’t they?”
The woman looked at him as if he had a few screws loose. I crouched low and slunk away as quietly as possible, trying to pretend I didn’t know this man. As I walked away, I heard him continue the conversation. I pretended to take an intense interest in some hand crafted knives and wondered how easy it would be to lop off his tongue with one.
The Navajo was obviously insulted and said, “No, I’m afraid there weren’t any Indians, Navajo or otherwise that I know of who once worshiped chickens.” And so it went. He rejoined me soon, and became preoccupied with being right about the chicken worshipers. “Where did I read that??? I know it’s true, I read it somewhere!”
I tried to ignore him for the rest of the day but it’s hard to ignore someone you’re on a date with.
On the way home, I thought I was safe from his insensible proclamations. Oh, how wrong I was! We passed several cars with bumper stickers on them. He pointed one out and said, “Do you know what that one means?”
Who cares? I thought to myself.
“Something about diving, I think.” It was maroon, with a white diagonal stripe.
“It means ‘dive or death.’ Do you know what that one means?” he pointed to a square rainbow sticker.
I bit back a sarcastic remark and instead said simply, “It means gay pride.” I looked at him and he was deep in thought.
“Yeah,” he replied, “I don’t have a problem with people being gay and all that. I just don’t understand why they have to have sex with each other!”
I don’t remember much of what happened after that, as my brain had frozen in shock. But I can assure you of this much, he didn’t get a good bye kiss!