Twenty year old's should not be allowed to date. At least, not twenty year old men who haven't at least been on a practice date. I was all set to meet my blind date at a restaurant that our friends had chosen for us. I checked and double checked everything I was wearing from the shoes on my feet to the cologne on my clothes. I was set.

I arrived at the restaurant 10 minutes early. It was not early enough as I found out soon enough by my extremely gorgeous blind date let me know not less than twelve times during the course of our meal. She was stunning, a blonde haired, blue eyed goddess with the body I could not have even dreamed about.

I managed to make up for my 'tardiness' and we had a less than awkward time, telling each other about ourselves. I must have been nervous because I reverted to stories about flatulence as a teen and her face showed her disinterest. There was no recovering. I knew she was losing interest, but my interest must have been obvious to her because she did say, 'I don't have eyes on my chest'. She certainly didn't. Those would have been some big eyes.

The date had failed. That's ok. I had some good eye candy and people saw me with her. Again, I overindulged on the eye candy and as I stood up to reach for my wallet in my back pocket, the 'enthusiasm' her chest had caused me showed and knocked over my front of the waiter.

As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, my wallet was not where it should have been. My checking and double checking was not enough. She paid. We left. She didn't even say so much as 'don't call'. I never went on a blind date again.