Andy and myself had agreed by e-mail to meet at the Starbucks at the end of the local strip mall at two in the afternoon. I was so happy that I finally got a blind date. Luckily Andy had agreed to meet up in the afternoon. I just didn’t dare to meet him at night. Not the first time we would meet. I was afraid that my poor eyesight would make it difficult to enjoy my date. I am very myopic and my modest income meant that I hadn’t been able to afford a new pair of glasses for almost two years, although a stronger prescription was long overdue.
I started wearing glasses when I was nine. Back then I had a very weak prescription, however my eyesight got rapidly worse. When I still lived at home, my parents would pay for new lenses every four to six months and I got a new frame at least once a year. This ensured I could always see reasonably well. However two years ago I moved out and started working in a full time admin job and since then money is always a little short. Hence new glasses hadn’t been a priority. The pair which I wore didn’t even have the thinnest possible lenses, again due to cost, something which I attributed the fact to that I found it incredibly hard to find a partner or at least to be taken out on a date.
As mentioned, my glasses at the time were almost two years old so I really couldn’t see that well with them anymore. Andy actually had no clue that I wore thick glasses. I may have casually mentioned to him that I wear some spectacles but never mentioned anything about my prescription, which was really high. Without my glasses I would have been completely lost and contacts had never been an option as my eyes were too dry.
On the day of our date I was so excited that I arrived at the Starbucks almost half an hour early. The place was almost empty. I chose to sit and wait at a round table in the corner, not far from the entrance. I was super nervous. This was my first blind date and really only my second date ever. I was not yet 21 years old and very shy, not least because of my glasses. I was convinced guys hated them. And truth is probably most guys did. I just hoped and prayed that Andy wasn’t one of them.
Although he had practically no idea about my looks, he did send me a small picture so that I could recognize him at the Starbucks. He was quite handsome, a bit nerdy, tall and bespectacled as well, although with what appeared to be a very weak prescription.
Shortly after my arrival at the coffee shop a guy came through the door. Was it him? I couldn’t tell. Things were too blurry unfortunately. I tried to focus, squinted a little and gave my glasses a push on the temple. Like this I was able to see that it must have been somebody else. I was absolutely certain that it wasn’t him, when the guy went to the counter and ordered a macchiato or something similar. Andy would surely have looked around first to see if I had arrived already.
It was a good thing that I had this false alarm as I now knew that with my glasses I wouldn’t be able to recognize Andy without using some tricks. I fiddled with my glasses and was able to tilt them in a way to have the lenses really close to my eye balls, so much so that my eye lashes which weren’t that long by any means touched the lenses. I could fix the earpieces in my hair and could see reasonably well like this, although not crystal clear of course. I used to do this often when I needed to see something for a prolonged time such as watching TV. With the best squint possible I was even able to see people’s faces on the parking lot outside.
However I knew I had about two seconds to readjust my glasses on my nose after I would recognize him. I really didn’t want Andy to know that my already very thick glasses weren’t strong enough. Ok: it was impossible to hide my myopia but I wanted Andy to believe that my eyesight was as good as his with my glasses on my nose. At least that was my plan…
From my initial chats with Andy I knew that I was his type: Early on he had confessed that he was into chubby and curvy girls and I happily told him that he didn’t need to look any further. Needless to mention I made an effort to look nice for my date. I played with my curvy assets to hopefully excite him. A black fitted top which showed a bit of cleavage and which was slightly see through on the back revealed a hint of my heavy duty bra and a light grey pair of leggings hugged every bit of my butt, thighs and legs. My brown long hair was slightly wavy down my neck and I showed off my lips in the best red possible.
I was convinced I was the perfect model for anyone into bigger girls - except the glasses of course. Those had a blue plastic frame holding round if not slightly oval polycarbonate lenses, which were flat on the front but stuck out almost threefold on the back of the frame. Their inner reflections as well as the thickness immediately gave away that my myopia was really bad. But nothing revealed that my glasses were obsolete, as long as I didn’t tilt them or squint.
That’s how I waited until it was almost two. Then I discovered a silver car which parked not far from the entrance and a guy got off. I squinted really hard to see if it could be Andy. The hair colour seemed to match but the features of this guy’s face were simply too blurry. He seemed on his way to Starbucks. My heartbeat was racing. When he walked towards the entrance, I couldn’t resist and squeezed my glasses another bit closer to my right eye - the slightly better one.
Frustratingly I still couldn’t decide if it was Andy or not. Then the guy opened the door and immediately looked at me. It was him! He must have seen me from outside of the coffee shop already. Within a split second I had stopped my squint and readjusted my glasses on my nose. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t recognize him anymore like this because I knew it was him. “Andy, hi!” I said all excited, albeit very nervous, because of the date I had waited so long for but also because I had to assume that he had caught my blindness…
As Andy got closer I got up to give him a welcome hug. I was excited to finally be in a date. The hug was very brief but I managed to get him to feel my ample chest. He might have been a bit shy. At least his “Hello Nathalie” wasn’t said with a very convincing voice. I liked his looks. He wore a dark collared shirt and light brown chinos. His hair was properly combed and his glasses had a silver rim. He was of average built but quite tall, I loved what I saw now that he was literally in front of me.
“So nice to finally see you!” I was making sure that he noticed how excited I was about the moment and him as a person. I pulled down my top to get that little bit of additional cleavage and even tried to move my chest a little. However that didn’t seem to work as well as planned. I squinted for a split second to try to make out if his eyes were checking out my boobs but it appeared they were fixated on my face. I hated that. I didn’t want him to only look at my glasses.
Hence after we had exchanged a few pleasantries, I dared to make an audacious statement: “Andy, just in case you are trying to be polite, don’t worry, I’m ok if you’ll look at my cleavage! All men do and I know that my chest is very prominent, so I am totally used to it!” I was curious what he would answer. He chuckled and said: “Thank you Nathalie, can I ask you something?” “Sure?” I replied, curious what he would say next. “Can you see if people look at your face or at your chest?” “What do you mean?” I asked back somewhat disturbed by his question. “Well it is obvious that your glasses are very strong so your eyesight must be pretty bad and therefore I wondered if you can see what I am looking at.” “Of course I can!” I replied with the firmest possible voice. “All I’m saying is I don’t care where your eyes wander if you look at me!” I must have sounded slightly annoyed and Andy must have noticed that his remark wasn’t how you should open a conversation during a blind date.
Therefore he made an effort to quickly change the topic and complimented me on my looks: “Well Nathalie you promised to have nice curves but I must tell you they are even more stunning than what I had expected!” This sounded a lot better and I gave Andy a nice smile and thanked him for his compliments.
We chatted on for a bit about our families, work and hobbies. I really liked the guy. He was very pleasant, clearly smart and well educated and I thoroughly enjoyed his company. I started to feel some affection for him and tried very hard to show him how I felt. In fact I could feel how I slowly started to get the intense feeling of happiness which usually comes with love. With my legs I started to touch his a bit, trying to pretend I didn’t notice and he didn’t pull back his leg. For a moment life was good!
After this initial chat Andy suggested that he would get us something to drink. He glanced towards the bar counter. From where we sat, not only could I not read the menu, I wasn’t even sure if I looked in the right direction. I pretended that my glasses had slipped down my nose and pushed them back up, of course squeezing them really close to my eyes. After a very short but intense squint I knew where the menu was, but it was still totally impossible to read anything on it, yet Andy seemed to be able to read everything effortlessly.
I looked at him and realized that he was checking me out. My heart pounded. Most likely he had seen my squint. Even worse what was I going to order? I had no clue what was available… Andy appeared to come to my rescue: “I’ll have the caramel macchiato. Do you want one too?” I nodded: “Sounds like a plan!” I made sure it looked like I was searching for the offer on the menu board. “There it is!” I said, not realizing that Andy simply had tested me out. “There is no Caramel Macchiato at this branch, my dear… what would you like instead?”
Here we go: Andy now knew that I couldn’t see the menu board. I was annoyed with him for tricking me but even more so with myself for having allowed him to catch me. After all I had had plenty of time to check out the menu before he arrived. “As you have already found out my vision isn’t the best” I mumbled stating the obvious. “That is very noticeable, Nathalie. I am sorry your eyesight is so poor! I remember you had told me that you wear glasses but I had no clue they were so strong!” Sensitivity didn’t seem to be Andy’s forte. “Let me just get a bit closer, so that I can make up my mind more comfortably” I told Andy, knowing that it must have sounded like a ridiculous plan. Not surprisingly he looked funnily at me and with a slight disbelief in his voice answered: “sure, why not?”
For a moment I was procrastinating but then decided to make a few steps towards the counter and the menu. Standing there I knew Andy looked at my behind. Therefore I pulled up my leggings and stroke my butt. At the same time I squinted towards the menu board as hard as I could but without any success. The counter was still a few feet away so I made another step but still couldn’t read the board. Probably by now I would have been able to read everything had I pushed my glasses up my nose or tilted them. But I didn’t want to appear even more myopic than I must have looked already. So I turned back to our table and gave Andy a little smile.
I hoped that he would not ask me what I had chosen and therefore raised the contentious subject: “Do my glasses bother you?” I asked insecurely. In lieu of an answer Andy suggested that we should have a caramel frappucino to which I agreed and which apparently was on the menu indeed. Andy went to the counter, paid and picked them up shortly thereafter.
While I waited at our table I had perhaps a little too much time to reflect on how the date had been going so far. I came to the conclusion that Andy was a great guy. I loved his smarts, his looks, his personality, everything. But at the same time I was acutely aware that I had made a fool of myself by trying to pretend my eyes weren’t an issue. They were an issue, Andy noticed it immediately. I should have warned him probably, although this might have caused a cancellation or even a no show. So how could I save the situation? I decided to play my strongest card, the one every woman in my place would have played and the only one I seemed to have left at that time: My body.
I readjusted my top, straightened my back and turned my upper body slightly so that Andy would see my cleavage when he would come back to the table. For a split second I had even considered to take off my bra under my shirt, but immediately noticed how ridiculous that would have been. But this ludicrous thought shows how desperate I was.
When Andy walked back to the table I smiled at him and I convinced myself that he had smiled back at me. For obvious reasons I couldn’t really tell but I was sure he did. He brought the drinks and I thanked him. We then chatted a bit about family, childhood, jobs, and some other meaningless stuff. While doing so I behaved as sexy as I could or at least what I thought must have looked sexy. Yet I was almost certain that Andy constantly looked at my face and didn’t notice when I slowly stroked my thighs or even gently lifted my left breast by pulling up the bra strap. I was completely lost.
But I wasn’t willing to give up yet. Hence I asked him: “Do you remember when you told me that you had a preference for curvy or even chubby girls?” “Oh yes of course I do”, he replied, slightly embarrassed to be remembered of a chat which we had weeks ago in the anonymity of the internet. “So would you say my body is in line with your expectation?” I wasn’t ready to let loose. “Oh definitely, you look great, Nathalie!” Finally a sign of hope! I dug deeper: “Are you more a boobs kind of guy or more into butts?” I asked him without any shame. I was actually proud of my courage to ask him this question. “Both” was his brief but firm reply, before he added: “but can I ask you something about your glasses?” I wouldn’t let that happen! Hence I continued: “So if you look at my butt and chest, where would you say I score higher?” I was curious if he would finally show some interest in my build.
After a pause he replied “Uhm I think your butt is bigger than your chest but your chest is more prominent. Would you accept that answer?” Goodness he is so polite, I thought! “I wouldn’t say my chest is small but if you think so! Would you really say a 40F is small?” I asked him with quite a provocative voice. “Oh no, definitely not. Sorry if I offended you! I didn’t mean to.” What a well behaved man he now suddenly was! I wanted to tell him right away that he was totally fine and that I only teased him but I didn’t manage before he continued: “at what age did you start wearing glasses?” Either he was truly concerned about my eyesight or he had a strong obsession for glasses. I just hoped it was the latter when I truthfully replied: “I got my first pair when I was nine but probably needed one when I was eight already.” He nodded as if he had expected my response: “I got my first pair when I was 15 but didn’t see that well for quite some time already. Do you know how strong your first pair was?” I remembered exactly: “-1.25 and -1.5 I was totally amazed how well I could see with them and didn’t not wear glasses for a single day ever since.” I was afraid he would ask me questions about my current vision which I really didn’t want to answer. Hence I immediately threw a question back at him: “But Andy, tell me: do you like my glasses or do they bother you?”
He shrugged his shoulders: “Difficult to say! They are definitely unique!” I had to take this as a clear message that he hated them. Therefore I wasn’t too disappointed when he told me that he needed to make a move. I was however pleasantly surprised when he asked me if he could drive me home. Why would he be interested where I lived if he wasn’t interested in myself at all? I replied that I would be very grateful if he could give me a lift to my flat, not knowing what would come next.
The polished man Andy was, he held the door for me so that I could leave the building first. I waited for him because I couldn’t remember which car was his. “It’s the silver Ford over there”. I squinted with my left eye, the one which Andy couldn’t see, and tried to identify a Ford logo on the handful of silver cars which I could make out on the parking lot.
Andy must have sensed my difficulty to identify his car. He now stood in my way and looked firmly at my face. “Am I right, Nathalie, you can’t see any of the car models over there? Can you find the car with the number plate which ends in 803?”. I didn’t say anything but shook my head just a tiny bit. I now knew that I was completely found out. I squinted and pushed my glasses closer to my eyes. I had nothing to hide anymore after all. With what must have been a very insecure voice I replied that I was simply too nearsighted to identify any numbers on any of the plates. Andy smiled. “I know”, he confirmed. “How old are these glasses?” “A little over a year old”, I replied with a sigh. I didn’t want to admit that I had been unable to afford a new pair and that my glasses were in fact significantly older than what I said. “I should buy some stronger ones, I know.” “I think you need a much stronger prescription, my dear.” Now Andy’s voice was a mixture of surprise and shock. “I realized when we ordered our coffees that your glasses weren’t up to date but back then I thought that your glasses must be a few years old. I didn’t realize that your eyesight could get so much worse in a year.” Andy sounded genuinely concerned.
“Oh you don’t know anything Andy, my vision has got worse significantly every year ever since I got my first pair of glasses eleven years ago.” “Do you know your current prescription?” Andy now seemed to be interested in my glasses again, which I saw as a positive sign. “It’s about negative 16” I replied truthfully. I didn’t think it was necessary to mention that I had some astigmatism as well. “It will probably be negative 17.5 by now”, he reasoned more to himself than to me. “What was your first prescription again?” “Negative 1.5” I wasn’t keen on this discussion. But he seemed to be truly engaged now: “So that’s an increase of about 16 diopters in eleven years. Wow, I have never met anybody with eyes as bad as yours, Nathalie! On average you need -1.5 more every year!” His calculation was probably pretty accurate. I quickly added up in my mind that according to this formula, in reality I needed more like -19 by now, in other words lacked 3 diopters in my glasses. Of course I didn’t mention that to him.
Andy took my hand: “Let’s walk towards my car and you’ll tell me when you can read the number plate, shall we?” To say I wasn’t keen on this test of my terrible eyesight would be an understatement. But I didn’t dare to object. I liked Andy and I wanted him to be my boyfriend. Hence I agreed but asked if I was allowed to cheat a little. “How could you possibly cheat?” he asked. “I could squint or squeeze my glasses closer to my eyes”, I explained: “it makes the correction stronger and I can see better.” “Try it without cheating please” he replied. “Whatever” I replied.
“Oh I have another idea!” he suddenly remarked while he handed me his glasses. “Try to hold mine over yours! They are a negative 1.5. With them on top of your glasses you might see a lot better!” I started to wonder if Andy had a secret love for optical things while I put his glasses over mine. I was frankly a little curious myself to find out if -1.5 would make a big difference or not. I wasn’t surprised to establish that I could indeed see better with his glasses over mine but it was far from enough to make me see well. I decided to stick to the truth: “they make a difference but I need more power in my new lenses.” I handed back the glasses and waited for his reply.
Instead of saying anything, Andy walked me closer and closer to what must have been his car. He asked a number of times if I really still couldn’t read any of the numbers. My answer was always the same and very brief: “No.” After the third or fourth repetition of this procedure he added a not very sensitive “I can’t believe how terrible your eyes are.” A tear slid down my right eye. I was truly sad to hear Andy say that. With the tear in my eye my already poor eyesight became even worse and I basically couldn’t read the number plate until we stood practically in front of the car. “Now I can read the numbers” I told him.
Andy turned around and hugged me lightly. “Nathalie, I’m so sorry that your eyesight is so bad. Hopefully I didn’t offend you with my comments!” The hug made me feel a little better, albeit I continued to be sad and insecure. “It’s ok even if you did” I replied, not aware what would come next. “Listen Nathalie, I’m afraid your eyesight will continue to get worse…” “Probably”, I threw in. “I don’t think I could be your guide dog though. I don’t think I’m made for a partner with a severe handicap like this”, Andy now threw at me while he loosened his hug. I could feel that it was difficult for him to say these words but I could also feel immediately that he had lost all interest in me. It was hopeless. And my date was ruined. “Ok, bye” was literally all I managed to say while I escaped his arms, turned around and walked back to the Starbucks with fast steps. By now I was crying openly.
The barista saw my state of emotions immediately: “Are you all right, miss?” I didn’t say a word. I didn’t know why I went back to Starbucks actually but I sat down at the same table and tried to clean my tears away. The barista, whom I hadn’t really noticed before now stood at my table: “Can I get you anything, miss? That date didn’t go too well, huh? What a shame…” He waited for a reply which I couldn’t give in my state though.
He continued: “Don’t worry, miss, there are lots of nice guys out there! You’ll find a new one, soon.” I nodded and tried to give him a bit of a smile. I was embarrassed about my lost composure and said something which must have sounded like “Sorry.” He continued: “That’s ok, don’t worry! By the way you look really hot in your outfit!” I said thank you, although not sure yet, if I should believe him before he added: “But why the hell don’t you wear contacts instead of those chunky glasses?”