I woke up from a very drunken Saturday night with my makeup still on. Fuck. And why can't I see properly?? I'm missing a contact. Seriously, Lindsay? Get your shit together. I stumbled into my bathroom and reached in the box where I keep my contact lenses. Empty.
Ever since The TJ's Guy told me my glasses were funny, I haven't worn them in public.
More importantly, I had a date that night. I definitely couldn't wear my glasses on the date, so I grabbed my prescription and ran to Lenscrafters. You've never seen a more sad face than the one I gave the salesclerk when he told my contacts were "special order only."
I nearly cancelled my date, but I knew it would come off as a super lame excuse. So I did what any girl would do: I drove to the date with my glasses on, parked my car, changed into my ONE contact, and went to my date.
...What? Normal girls don't do shit like that? I don't believe you.
The Writer was a nice, Jewish guy. I didn't feel any chemistry between us, but I still had a good time. Even with one blurry eye. He moved to LA to make it in the entertainment industry, which is generally a turnoff for me. We talked about writing and I mentioned how much I love it, but that I've only dabbled in blogging. I even told him I used to blog about restaurant life. At the end of the date, I knew he was interested. He asked about a second date, and I didn't say no. I figured I could give it a second chance. I walked to my car, put on my glasses, and drove home.
Little did I know the HUGE mistake I'd made...