Have you ever had your friends strap on their wings and try to play cupid by setting you up on a blind date? Well, last year my friends importunately told me I should go out with this guy they had met at the hookah bar one night. They said they thought of me when they met him because he told them he was looking for someone special and I had never had a Valentine before.

To be honest, I have never been enamored with boys to begin with, not because my tastes are different, but simply because I am happy being single without having to depend on anyone and even after being told about this free dating app, I didn’t succumb to the temptation to try out like my other friends did as I couldn’t relate to it.

The fact I spent every Valentine’s Day alone depressed them but it never really bothered me. However, they insisted I could not spend another year alone and kept trying to persuade me to be wine and dined by this perfect stranger. I had my heart set on the answer “no” but after their begging turned into torture for me, I broke down and agreed to meet this guy they kept going on about. They described him as a tall, sexy Arabic drink of water, one apparently many girls wanted to get a taste of.

Six o’ clock in the evening and the sexy Arabic drink of water arrived in a black Mustang to pick me up. I walked to his car and out he gets, tall indeed. Tall was an accurate word to describe him but sexy was out of the question. He was dreadfully bland looking, expressionless but I was now stuck. The car ride to the restaurant was painful, the silence made the growling of my stomach sound like a scream for help. It was a snowy day in Kansas City so his driving was making my heart feel like it was going to explode out of my chest and all over the clean, shiny interior of his car. You could tell just by looking at it that his car may as well have been his woman.

After the excruciating car ride in his well-taken-care-of Mustang, in which few words were exchanged or even understood for that matter, we arrived at our destination. I was relieved to see he picked a decent restaurant, The Cheesecake Factory. When we got into the place it was packed full of couples waiting for their turn to spend a romantic evening together. There was a long wait but my date was determined to eat there; he even told me it was his favorite restaurant. About an hour after barely any dialogue and after we discovered we shared nothing in common, we got our table.

We sat down and ordered a couple of drinks, which helped us both loosen up a bit but he was still terribly hard to understand. The remainder of the date was as uncomfortable as it had started. After he paid, I knew it was over; I would soon be home and out of this mess of a set up. The pomegranate margarita with a salted rim I ordered at dinner ended up being the best part of my date.

This is why I don’t do Valentine’s Day.