It was the summer of '91 and the first time in my life since I'd began dating that I found myself alone. I just came off an engagement break-up and had met a girl at college who went home for the summer. She would eventually become my first wife seven years later but all I could see at that time was a bleak summer where most my friends and prospective dates had deserted town for the familiarity of home.
The blind date from hell entered my life through a wrong number. My roommate at the time, Matt, answered the phone one night and began talking to this chick. He was in a relationship so to him, it was a novelty to talk to a complete stranger with no expectations or responsibility. They'd never meet, so what harm was it?
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