What’s Love Got to do with It?

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Love Connection continued….

Not long after filming a short video for the Love Connection TV show, I received a call from them. They’d shown three clips to a guy and he’d chosen me for a date. He phoned me to set up our outing. I don’t remember his name, which tells you how this worked out in the long run. I do remember he lived all the way down in Huntington Beach, while I resided in the high desert, more than 100 miles north of him. Even for Southern California, that’s quite a distance for a blind date. Even more Southern California, over 200 miles round trip was nothing for a tv show.

I told him we could meet in the middle but he insisted on picking me up at my apartment, something I would never do now, inviting a stranger to see where I lived alone. (I look back at many things I did in my early 20’s and shake my head.) Unfamiliar with the north end of LA County, he asked me to make the plans.

We went to Vasquez Rocks, a bit south of my town. This is a beautiful park of stunning rock formations. People often recognize it because many films and TV shows use this scenery for background.

We drank a bottle of wine and watched the sunset. Having been warned by show staff not to drink excessively, we debated opening the second bottle before drinking it. As the air cooled, we gathered our things and went to a nearby, very out of the way, cozy, French restaurant. The show assistants had also told each of us not to reveal to other people, including wait staff, that we were on a Love Connection date, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t until after our third bottle of wine that we shared our secret with our waitress. We couldn’t help if folks around overheard. The rock walls and candlelight made for a warm, cheerful ambiance. Although show staff mentioned we shouldn’t accept free items, we really enjoyed the fancy dessert, compliments of the chef.

On the way back to my place, we talked and laughed easily. It wasn’t awkward until we stood in my quiet, little apartment. The magic had slipped away. He used the bathroom which was in my bedroom. “A waterbed!” Explaining he was newly in CA from back east, he said he’d only heard of waterbeds and didn’t think normal people used them. He asked if he could feel it. We sat on the bed and he laid back. Now it was pretty awkward, indeed. I reminded him he had a long drive ahead, he gave me a chaste goodbye kiss, and it was done.

Unfortunately, I didn’t click with the person who called to interview me about the evening. Unable to tell my story, I could react only to questions asked, just as it would be on the show. Even more unfortunate, the questions were salacious and only minimally related to the actual events. Shocking, I know. An example of our mutual frustration, he asked, “What did you think of him?” Me, “He was nice and friendly. ” “What about his looks?” “Um, he had a nice smile and I liked his eyes.” “What about his body?” “Well, I don’t know. It’s not like he’s a body builder.” “Oh, you only date muscle men?” “No, that’s not what I mean.” “Did you think he was sexy? He really liked you. Did you like him?” “Yes, he was really nice.” Round and round we went. Our conversation ended with me apologizing for something, “I hope you don’t think I was,” and he piped up, “A bitch? Yeah.” There was no follow up from the show, didn’t meet Chuck Woolery, no TV appearance. No love connection of any kind. On the whole, an underwhelming experience.

Good news for Pam though; she met a new love through Great Expectations, and they are happily married still. ♡

Interested in what happened with James Stewart ( real name), the long-haired, guitar player, bartender from Hard Rock Cafe? I’ll write about that next time.

Published by Sara Z

Writing is one of my passions. Most blog entries are relatively short articles regarding a wide variety of topics. I'm a middle-aged wife and mother of two adult sons. I've been a teacher, counselor, medical transcriptionist, student teacher supervisor, substitute teacher and retail clerk. Staying home now due to fibromyalgia. Seeking purpose.

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