After Blind Date From Hell The Second, I gave up on Charles’s ability to find me a boyfriend. "If you want a job done right, you have to do it yourself," I thought. And I did soooooo much better on my own, let me tell you. Here are a few which stand out in memory - maybe not all are Dates From Hell, but they’re at least Dates From Purgatory:

• the fairly nice, fairly handsome guy who, at the ripe old age of 26, had two ex-wives and an ex-kid with each (No thank you, Joe Samsonite, I don’t need that much baggage - and oh, was there ever baggage, let me assure you.)
• the guy who told me on our second date that he was still seeing his ex, but it was purely for physical reasons and therefore, the sooner we got physical, the sooner he could get rid of her entirely and did I have an idea of when that might be? (Yes. Never.)
• the guy who met me and my then-roommate Jenna at the same time and apparently only asked me out because he was interested in a three-way with us, a topic about which he would not. shut. up. (No. Just no.)
• the guy who called me up after two dates to ask where I saw this relationship heading, because his roommate was kicking him out and he needed a new place to stay (I see it heading straight to nowhere on the express train.)
• the Southern Baptist guy who told me that all Catholics were idolaters and that he was sorry I was going to burn in hell (You are probably asking yourself how I ever let this prize slip away.)
• the guy who asked me in an upbeat, conversational tone, "So, do you do anal?" (No, and dude, for future reference, even if she does I don’t think during pre-dinner drinks on the first date is quite the best time to inquire.)

Of course, my story of dating trauma has a happy ending (no, not that kind of happy ending!) because Nancy stepped in and succeeded where Charles failed abysmally. If you don't already know, Nancy convinced me to start a blog, gave my blog a hyperlink which Alan followed, eventually leading him to comment and e-mail me. A fast and furious e-mail correspondence ensued. Once I'd sent Nancy an e-mail asking, "So. This friend of yours, Alan - is he married, or does he have a girlfriend?", she was officially on the job! She is far better at this matchmaking thing than Charles, because last May she served as my matron of honour. Her husband Mark was best man.

A funny side note that I don't recall having blogged about previously: when Nancy introduced us at the Borders bookstore in Buckhead, she did so by saying, "Helly, this is your future husband Alan." I'm so glad she was right.