What's So Great About the Great Unknown?

Lazy Spaniard

Ingredients:
1 oz Bacardi Limon
1 oz Cointreau
1 oz Pineapple Juice
Juice from ½ Lemon
Speared Maraschino Cherry and Pineapple Chunk, for garnish

Directions:
Fill a lowball glass with ice. Pour the Bacardi Limon, Cointreau, pineapple juice, and lemon juice in the glass. Stir. Garnish with a speared maraschino cherry and a pineapple chunk.



Never trust a friend who tells you, “I have the perfect guy for you,” especially when it’s followed by, “He’s a divorced workaholic who squeals when he drives onto the freeway.” That is, unless you’re determined enough to expand your dating pool and get over your lingering ex-boyfriend that you accept a blind date with a thirty-six year old artist from Madrid.

Heading toward the Cuban restaurant for my first blind date, I felt a new sense of empowerment. I was openly putting myself out there by letting a perfect stranger know that I was wildly available and potentially interested. Thirty seconds later, Salima called to remind me that I was at the mercy of her judgment. “I’m actually not sure you’ll like him. But have fun anyway,” she said a bit too late.

Alberto was already waiting outside when I arrived. My eyes narrowed as I tried to figure out if he looked like his Cast & Crew photo. He did. Well, he looked like “that guys” older and less attractive brother with his jet black hair thinning in the crown area. Either way, I had found my date. Following him to an outside patio table, I caught a shimmer of light off of his eyebrow. In fact, the light was so revealing that I saw his eyebrow sweat slide off of his lashes, and onto the menu as we sat down.

“So you’re from Madrid?” I asked focusing on something dry. “It must be hot.”

Alberto simply said, “Yes” and ordered a pressed pulled-pork sandwich and a bottle of wine. I shifted in my seat, and asked another short time-filling question. He simply replied, “Yes.” Ten silent minutes later, the wine arrived to kick up the conversation. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure in which direction for his lazy eye rolled around the patio, and then landed on my chest.

Quickly devouring my salad, I wondered why there was a question to Salima’s statement. Obviously, three weeks together in Costa Rica left the impression that I liked anyone with a Spanish accent. While it certainly helped, it was by no means a dealmaker. Alberto took a bite of his pig sandwich, and then filled me in on his miserable schedule as a storyboard artist creatively pushing someone else’s vision. And the someone else in this case happened to be his “megalomaniacal” boss.

‘Terrific,” I said changing the subject. “Do you get back to Madrid often?” I asked prying his lazy eye off my chest.

“I haven’t been home in fifteen years,” he said in a bitter accent that stranded my happy thoughts on the island of Ibiza. While I wanted to take control of my dating life, expand my options, and open my mind to letting a relationship grow in a slow and mature fashion, I didn’t want to wind up on a tiny Balearic island in the Mediterranean Sea with an overheating Spaniard. Finishing my drink, I prayed the heavens would open up and cool off this sweaty man.

Thirty rainless minutes later, his lazy eye settled the bill, and then slowly walked me to my car. Unsure what to do, I held my hand up in a high-five, and thanked him for dinner. Turning away, he simply said, “Gracias,” with a sweetness that I had yet to experience. As he disappeared, I realized that no one is good at blind dates. Not me, nor his lazy eye.

Suggested Number of Drinks: