Blind dates – they’re every thing you hate about first dates with the added element of not knowing if your sister set this up as a favor to you or to the guy. If it was my oldest sister, I would never agree to this, mostly because my oldest sister doesn’t even know many single guys. Single guys don’t exist in her perfect little mommy clubs, except younger brothers who usually end up still living with their mommies.
Now, my second oldest sister – yes, I’m the baby of three girls – knows me well enough to attempt to set me up with some decent guys, all employed and living on their own. Unfortunately, they’re also all employed by the Air Force, like her own husband. It may work for them, but I’m not looking for a guy who will be gone several months a year. Plus, her husband is their boss and they are all terrified of offending him by breaking up with me or sleeping with me.
At least when I meet a guy at a bar or wherever, I know he’s cute and has a personality worth something before I get to the first date. Tonight, I’m waiting for a guy who already has two strikes against him – he’s ten minutes late and Isabel said he’s “really funny,” which every single girl knows is code for “not good looking.” Also, my sister’s idea of funny doesn’t always sync with the rest of the world’s, so I twirled my straw in my drink and prepare myself for a boring couple of hours – if he ever shows up.
While I waited, I thought about the phone call I got this afternoon. Last Sunday, I got back from a cruise with my friend Gina. I met a guy on the cruise, and had a good time with him on the cruise, but I’m not naïve. Vacation romances don’t last on dry land. I said goodbye on the ship and never expected to see or hear from him again. Until he called, only six days after we disembarked. I wasn’t sure if that made him that desperate or me that alluring. But he was nice, and good looking, and had a good personality, so I agreed to a date in the real world next weekend.
I checked my watch. Blind Date was now fifteen minutes late. I hoped whatever he did for the military didn’t involve being punctual. At this point, he had until I finished my drink and then I was out of here. And my sister would owe me for the drink. With a big tip for the bartender, of course. There were only four bars in town worth going to, so I always tipped Keenan Bradshaw well enough that I knew he never skimped on my drinks.
The bar was quiet for a moment and Keenan wandered over, clearing the bar of empty beer glasses as he went by. “Late?” he asked.
“Yup,” I sighed. “Blind date. Fifteen minutes.”
“Loser. Don’t even bother talking to him when he comes in,” Keenan advised. “How’s he supposed to know it’s you?”
“Isabel set me up,” I sighed again. From oldest to youngest, there was only a four year difference and the three of us were often mistaken for triplets even though I’m four inches shorter than them. If the guy knew Isabel, he would know who I was the instant he walked in the door. If he ever walked in the door.
“Head out and leave your tab here for him,” Keenan counseled me. “If he doesn’t show, I’ll bill your sister.” He grinned wickedly and I knew he’d definitely add a generous tip to my sister’s bill if it came to that.
I drained my fuzzy navel and set the glass back down on the gleaming bar. Keenan prided himself on running an upscale bar even though the town really didn’t have the clientele for one, despite being the county seat with an Air Force base and a college nearby. It helped that O’Bannon’s Pub was located on Main Street, only two blocks from my sister’s coffee shop in the middle of Lawyer Row, in the only upscale section of town.
“Go,” Keenan urged me. “I’ll take care of your ‘date.’”
“Thanks,” I said, grabbing my purse. I considered feeling sorry for the guy, but after twenty minutes, I didn’t have much pity left. Keenan was big, built and black, and known to be protective of his regular clients. Once, a county kid slapped a college girl who turned him down. Keenan supposedly jumped the bar and broke the guy’s jaw. Isabel was there that night, along with several of her lawyerly patrons, and she said every lawyer in the place was offering to represent Keenan pro-bono when the kid pressed charges. Keenan got off, the county people stopped frequenting the bar, and the women in town felt safe bringing blind dates and first dates to O’Bannon’s.
My feet crunched on the snow shoveled haphazardly to the edge of the sidewalk, creating piles that made it impossible to open passenger side car doors. The snow wasn’t pretty anymore, like it was in December. By January, the piles were pitted with gravel and salt and generally an annoyance instead of a mound of beauty. Not even young boys were enamored with it anymore – neither of my nephews wanted to put forth the effort in piling on layers to go outside and play, not that they could make snowballs or forts from the frozen stratums of January storms.
I started my car and hit two on my cell phone in the same instant. Isabel picked it up after five rings, which made me feel slightly guilty. If I wasn’t mad at her, I would have remembered that this was my nephew’s bedtime and she was probably reading to him. Or, more likely, listening to him stumble through the book since he was finally learning to read.
“Short date,” she said without greeting. I heard “Mommy, is that Aunt Wendy?” in the background. “Yes,” she said to Donovan. “Now what’s that word?” He started to sound out ‘caterpillar’ and I knew I had some time to talk.
“He didn’t show up,” I replied. “After twenty minutes, Keenan kicked me out. You owe him for the drink.”
“He didn’t show?” Isabel exclaimed. “He’s going to get it on Monday.” She shifted back into Mommy Mode. “Yes, baby, the first part is cat. What sound do you think the ‘er’ makes?”
“You just told him what sound the ‘er’ makes,” I informed her.
“Whatever,” she scoffed. “I’m not Hannah.” Isabel wasn’t oblivious to her teaching deficiencies; she just didn’t care. Unfortunately, the school district had a strict Sept. 1 cut-off for kindergarten and Donovan turned five in December, so he was stuck with what his preschool and his mother could offer for another year. Hannah, of course, planned her children’s births down to the minute, in March and April, so they would both be entering school at five and a half. She started teaching Troy to read when he was three and never even thought about putting either kid in daycare or preschool.
“So what happened? Or do you want to buy the house a round?”
“You know, someday Donovan’s going to figure out our fool proof code,” I pointed out.
“Again, whatever.” Isabel spent her life in a wholly unconcerned state to others. “Want me to call Solo?”
“Yes,” I agreed, grudgingly but knowing I would spend the next day trading phone calls with them, involving longer and expanded stories, if we didn’t sit down and talk tonight. My sisters were notorious gossips.

Hannah was already at Isabel’s by the time I got there – not that that was surprising, given that they lived nest door to each other. Not that I could talk, though, as I lived in a suite in Isabel’s walk-out basement. One of my previous boyfriends accused us of being a closed circle. Infuriatingly, Isabel told him we were more like a tricky triangle.
“I have some Blue Moon in the fridge,” Isabel called from the kitchen. I heard the familiar clatter of wine glasses being pulled from underneath the upper cabinets. Any one of us could have done the same motion in her sleep, of course. We knew each of our kitchens like the backs of our hands, though I always liked Hannah’s the best. Isabel’s was always disorganized and messy, though she swore she could find any thing at any time. She probably could, but I would never go looking for anything but cereal in there. When I ran out of something, I went to Hannah’s – she was better stocked than a grocery store.
Hannah was moving things off Isabel’s black granite island when I entered the warm room. I didn’t say anything but grabbed a paper towel and wiped the sticky remains of Donovan’s dinner off the now somewhat empty island. Isabel poured three glasses of wine as Hannah and I settled onto the two cleared bar chairs; Isabel tossed Donovan’s winter coat onto the bench pushed near the kitchen table before sitting down herself.
“So…” Hannah said after we had sat for a moment, taking a few sips of the white wine. “Your date didn’t show.”
Obviously Isabel had filled her in on the details. “That’s about it. I waited twenty minutes and then left.”
“I don’t understand,” Isabel said. “He was a nice guy, really funny. Plus, he has to know how Gil will react to standing you up.”
“Absolutely not,” Hannah snapped. “She’s not going to get anywhere if guys only date her because they’re afraid of Gil. You’ve got to stop setting her up with his airmen, anyway.”
“Well, I don’t know anyone else to set her up with,” Isabel complained. “It’s not like you’re doing any better. What was your last one, Johnny Has No Car?”
I waved my hands. “OK, first, I’m still here.” They stopped with their mouths open in mid-argument. “Second, I can find dates without you two.”
“Please, you didn’t go on a single real date in December,” Hannah scoffed.
“And the only one in November was Johnny No Car,” Isabel added. “And that was mostly because you had tickets to the hockey game.”
Hannah bristled. “No car is better than being stood up.”
“Maybe my guy couldn’t make it because he didn’t have a car, either,” Isabel shot back.
“Really? We’re going to argue about this?” I rolled my eyes. “The problem is, neither of you have been on a date in over seven years, nor do you understand what it’s like to be out there, looking, now.”
Isabel raised her hand. “Actually, it’s only been five and a half years since I’ve been on a date.”
Hannah did a perfect mimic of my eye roll. “Really, nowadays I think it’s considered sluttish to sleep with a guy before the fifth date. Remind me again what you did on your fifth date?”
Isabel stopped her eye roll at the top, giving us an exasperated look. “Really, when are we going to let this go?”
“Didn’t you go shopping for a pregnancy test?” I asked innocently.
“And proceeded to ruin my wedding?” Hannah added.
“Having a shotgun wedding three weeks before your perfect gala didn’t ruin it,” Isabel stuck her tongue out. “Besides, I’m perfectly happy with the result of my dating experience. So can we drop it?”
“Isn’t that the gravamen, though? Wendy doesn’t want to marry the first man who knocks her up, like you did.”
“Mostly because she never even gets to the fifth date,” Isabel pointed out. She paused for a moment, twirling a lock of her blonde hair. “Lexiphanes,” she added.
“What the hell are you two talking about?” I exploded. “Use English, please.”
They looked guilty. “We’re, ah, getting word of the day emails,” Hannah explained. “First one to use one in a conversation, correctly, gets a point.”
“I get extra points if I use a word in the name of a special,” Isabel said sheepishly. “Yesterday’s was ‘cibarious,’ which means ‘related to food.’ I think I can get my bonus points on that one.”
“Oh. My. God,” I said. “Really, in the middle of discussing my dating life, you’re throwing around points?”
“Well, we both get points for those!” Hannah exclaimed.
“I wasn’t going to let her use one without hitting her back,” Isabel sounded grouchy. She was probably still annoyed that the conversation came back to her mistakes instead of mine.
I was slightly intrigued despite how dorky my sisters were acting. “Is there an actual point scoreboard?” I asked.
They exchanged glances and started to smile. “You want in?” Isabel asked.
“Does it count if I use the word at work and not in front of you? And is there a time limit?” I asked, finding myself needing to clarify the conditions.
“Nope, has to be in a conversation with one of us,” Isabel replied. “Once a word is on the list, it can only be used once, but can be used up until another sister uses it first, not just on the day it’s the word of the day. We’ve been keeping track on our Blackberries.”
“You are such geeks,” I rolled my eyes when they whipped out their devices in unison to show me the scorecard.
Isabel grinned. “Whatever, you’re so in.”
“Sucker,” Hannah added. “Want the list?”
“Make sure you take off gravamen and lexiphanes,” Isabel emphasized.
Hannah made the necessary changes and seconds later, my phone beeped the announcement of new email. “Total dorks,” I muttered, making no movement to check my phone. I knew I’d check it later anyway. Competition runs in the family.
“Back to you,” Hannah announced. “What do we do about Wendy?”
“Wendy has wings to fly above the clouds,” Isabel sang.
“That’s Windy,” corrected Hannah.
“No, look, Wendy has stormy eyes,” Isabel laughed.
I was glaring at them fairly hard, and wishing they had a song with their name in it. If it wasn’t Windy, it was quotes from Peter Pan. It was only slightly better than constant mentions of Donovan’s premature conception.
“For your information, I have a date next week, whom I managed to procure myself,” I told them.
They were about to scoff, but Isabel had a good memory. “Cruise Boy called?” she squealed. “Really?”
I blushed; I knew they thought I was a hopeless cause when it came to dating, but her enthusiasm had past the top and was heading down the other side.
“So we actually get to meet this guy and not just rely on Gina’s opinion,” Hannah was impressed.
“Absolutely not,” I snapped, not amused with the direction my news was taking.
“Not until at least the third date,” Isabel agreed. “Don’t tell him where you live, either.”
“He already knows where I live,” I said. “We did spend a week together, remember? Had to talk about something.” I paused, not wanting to share the next tidbit because of their predictable reactions, but knowing it would come out eventually. “Besides, he lives with his mother.”
“Nooooo,” they complained in unison.
I held up a hand and took a sip of wine. “It’s not that bad – he does own a house, too. But his father died last year and he’s been living with his mom to help with the transition. He has friends renting his place.”
They looked skeptical. “Well, I guess if it’s only temporary,” Isabel murmured.
“But if he mentions selling his house and moving in with his mother permanently, run the other direction fast,” Hannah advised.
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the sage advice, guys.” I checked my watch – this discussion had officially taken three times as long as my “date” that evening. “Going to bed now.”
We drained our wine glasses in harmony, then I scooped up my wristlet and prepared to head downstairs.
“Wait a minute!” Hannah exclaimed. “New purse!” Caught, I flushed as red as the small bag. “You went to the Coach outlet without me!” she accused.
“OK, first, you never buy anything when we go there anyway – you just drool over everything and spend an embarrassing amount of time in clearance,” I said. “Second, I stopped at the mall in Raleigh on my way home from the airport. Third, there was an outlet in San Juan, but you didn’t go on the cruise because you don’t think the kids can survive without you.”
“Well, they can’t,” Hannah pointed out. “God only knows what Michael would feed them if I wasn’t around. Or worse, he’d send them here for food,” she teased Isabel.
“Yes, we don’t all make gourmet sandwiches for lunch,” Isabel shot back. “Besides, I don’t see any pointing buying $300 purses just to do the designer’s advertising for them.”
I gestured to her own red purse dumped on the end of the counter, spilling various high end gadgets and snacks for Donovan. “You carry a Francesco Biasia!”
“There’s not a designer logo on the outside,” Isabel said defensively. “Besides, I bought it at TJMaxx for $100.”
“Still a designer bag,” Hannah muttered. She always defended her Coach purchases with the fact that every other mommy she knew carried a designer diaper bag, even well after their children were potty trained.
Isabel was too busy to hang out with other mommies, even the ones who frequented her coffee shop (Hannah’s mommy group had a book club that met at the shop), but her purse still did suit her. She was the only person I know who could have found a deal like that at a discount store. None of us had heard of Francesco Biasia before she called us from the store. Hannah was able to confirm that the bag would typically cost nearly $300. Isabel was not one to pass up a good deal on a nice purse that was perfectly suited to her personality, plus her husband had just left on deployment, so she spent his tax-free before he even reached the Middle East.
“OK, we’re so not having this argument for the millionth time, either,” I said. “I’m really going to bed.”
This time I made it out of the kitchen before they could find something new to pick at. I loved my sisters to death, but living this close to them could sometimes be overpowering. I hadn’t told them yet that Cruise Boy actually lived in Raleigh. I knew their reaction – they despised another guy I dated briefly, the college roommate of one of my high school friends. Isabel nicknamed him Raleigh Ryan and they both hated the fact that he had never once visited me here in town; I always drove to Raleigh to see him.
I knew they were content to stay here, in our college town. Hannah’s husband Michael was a successful banker who had quickly worked his way up at the local Bank of America chain after graduation. Isabel’s husband got out of the active duty Air Force before they could move him to another base, and joined the local Reserve unit just after he was promoted to major, much to the disappointment of his active duty commander. Not that his life changed much now that he was a commander of the reserve unit – he still deployed as frequently, if not more. But Isabel was here with her sisters and Gil knew that made her happy.
I wasn’t happy, though. My sisters had their nice little lives all wrapped up already. At 24, though, I was getting too old to date the college guys, and the graduate students were too focused on their studies. I wasn’t interested in the military guys. Other than that, there was a decided lack of available males in the 25-30 age range, and to top that, a supreme lack of anything to do on a date in this town. Driving to Raleigh at least gave me options that this town simply couldn’t provide.
After unlocking my door (I always lock it – sisters are not to be trusted, even[strike through] especially sisters who let you live in their mother-in-law suite for $250 a month), I flopped on the bed and considered when to tell them Cruise Boy lived an hour and a half away. I asked him to come here for our first real date, to avoid questions for at least a week. But there was no way I could pull off this charade for more than a few dates, and I was hoping to have more than a few dates with this guy.
I also wondered what nickname they’d give him once they decided they didn’t like him.