I Dreamed the Perfect Blind Date Was Lying To Me Chapter 01

The blind date dinner went smoothly. The military officer was polite and well mannered. Our parents couldn’t stop smiling.

That night, I dreamed I married him, moved to a desolate small town with him, and became a stepmother to his ex-wife’s child.

He smiled and said, “You didn’t have any other options, did you? You should be grateful.”

I woke up in a cold sweat, grabbed my phone, and blocked him immediately.

But the next day, he showed up outside my office building.

My mom’s call came through before the alarm even went off.

It was six thirty in the morning, the screen blazing bright.

I squinted and picked up.

“Six o’clock tonight at the Birchwood Grill. The private room is already booked.”

My mom’s voice carried that unmistakable excitement.

I knew that tone too well. It was the same one she used every time she set me up on a blind date.

“Mom, I have to work late tonight.”

“You work late every night. You’re thirty-two and still not married.”

I said nothing, just rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

At thirty-two, unmarried, working as an operations director at an internet company, in my mom’s worldview, those three facts added up to a failed life.

“This one is different,” she lowered her voice, practically buzzing with secrecy. “He’s an officer. A regiment level commander. A relative of Mrs. Walsh set it up. He’s a real catch.”

“How old?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Been married before?”

There was a pause on the line.

Just that one pause, and I understood everything.

“Divorced. No kids, I think. Probably no kids.”

“Probably?”

“Oh, stop worrying. Just meet him first. He’s handsome, six feet one inch. He’s a military man, how bad could he be?”

I sat up and rubbed my temples.

The sky outside was gray. It was late March, and the city hadn’t fully warmed up yet. Smoke drifted up from the breakfast cart downstairs.

I didn’t want to go.

But my mom’s next words closed off all my exits.

“Your father was asking about you again. He looked so disappointed when I said you might not come. I’m not going to force you, but you’ll have to tell him yourself.”

I closed my eyes. “What time?”

“Six. Your father and I will be there too. Mrs. Walsh is coming as company. He’s coming alone.”

I hung up and collapsed back onto the bed.

My mind cycled through the countless blind dates I’d been on.

They started when I was twenty-eight. More than a dozen of them by now.

Some men sat there eating in total silence. Some asked upfront whose name would be on the deed.

One spent the whole meal on a video call with his mom so she could conduct a remote interview.

Every time, I silently swore I’d never go again.

But every time my mom played the “your father is so disappointed” card, I gave in.

After work, instead of going home, I took a cab straight to the Birchwood Grill.

The private room was on the third floor. When I pushed open the door, my mom and dad were already seated.

Mrs. Walsh sat beside them. When she saw me, she stood up with a smile, took my hand and gave me an approving once-over.

“Oh, Emily, you get prettier every day. That dress is lovely.”

I was wearing my standard work skirt suit. Not lovely by any stretch, but Mrs. Walsh could turn plain water into champagne.

“Not here yet?” I asked.

“Soon. He’s coming from the base, so it’s a bit farther.”

I sat down, poured myself some tea, and took a sip.

My father sat across from me. He didn’t say much, but I could see him trying hard to hold himself properly.

His fork and knife were aligned, his water glass straightened. His posture was stiff and upright.

That was how he showed he took this seriously.

At ten past six, the door opened.