( the thing about blind dates is that you never know, really, if they're going to be great or they're going to be terrible. even knowing the person planning the blind date doesn't clear you of the potential for a complete disaster of an evening — a fact that caroline knows all too well after one too many experiences with elena misjudging 'complete loser who skips gym class' for 'intriguing bad boy' types — and considering the fact that she doesn't know the mysterious person behind okcuddle means that caroline has even less faith in the entire matching process.
but, perhaps more importantly, she doesn't have anything to lose here, either. it's not like she's got a reputation to catapult into the ground or anything. so she trusts in the process, casts a wish and signs up; when her match comes, she dresses up to suit the location — black, classic, appropriate. the glass of whiskey she picks up at the bar, however, is entirely for her: the smells of red meat and the red blooded men who enjoy it are overwhelming here, but the alcohol helps to settle her cravings, hopefully for long enough to enjoy the evening.
in any case, with glass in hand, caroline makes her way through the restaurant until she finds the table, a smile on her face as she greets: ) I'm not late, am I?
no subject
but, perhaps more importantly, she doesn't have anything to lose here, either. it's not like she's got a reputation to catapult into the ground or anything. so she trusts in the process, casts a wish and signs up; when her match comes, she dresses up to suit the location — black, classic, appropriate. the glass of whiskey she picks up at the bar, however, is entirely for her: the smells of red meat and the red blooded men who enjoy it are overwhelming here, but the alcohol helps to settle her cravings, hopefully for long enough to enjoy the evening.
in any case, with glass in hand, caroline makes her way through the restaurant until she finds the table, a smile on her face as she greets: ) I'm not late, am I?