Love is blind?

Blind dates are not for the faint of heart. Dipping one’s toe back into the dating pool after so many years of being “off the circuit” is fraught with peril enough not to have to now do it blindfolded. But as any self-respecting single gal knows the blind date is one of the rules of re-engagement. Saturday I have another, and this time I go with no expectations at all. Not like the last time with Giles, the friend of a colleague hell bent on setting the two of us up. And there you have obstacle number one: what happens when the date’s a disaster and you’re forced to fess up to said well-meaning workmate?

Giles and I had agreed to meet at a neighborhood restaurant – he’d described himself as dark-haired and of medium stature and my friend had assured me he was not unpleasant on the eye. When I arrived at our appointed meeting place I spotted a lone male sitting at the restaurant bar – he was dark-haired and of medium stature and, well, he was rather delish. I kind of eyed him and smiled but, not receiving so much as a stirring of recognition, decided to seat myself at the bar and call Giles on my phone, secretly hoping that the hottie across the way would pick up.

Alas, Giles turned out to be the rather ordinary looking bespectacled chap seated behind the restaurant pillar. Be still my sinking heart. We made innocuous small talk for the evening and then agreed to split the check.

They say don’t judge a book by its cover but then you hear about love at first sight… certainly there has to be something said for physical attraction, chemistry even. You’ve either got it or you don’t…

- Single-again Samantha