Fine print ...

Once I had a blind date in New York City. We met at Times Cafe in the Upper West Side. My date was a tall guy, an academic - I remember him showing up in very thick glasses. We sat and ordered dinner at a restaurant I loved very much. The conversation was not very interesting nor very memorable. I knew very quickly he was not the man for me (even his name now escapes me). All through dinner, he kept squinting at everything: the menu, his food, me talking. It was squint, squint, squint. So, of course when the bill came he squinted and asked me to split it in two since he couldn't see. That was a sure fire way to tell a girl you're not interested!

Holly F.