The Blind Date

This is a fictional story that I was working on this morning. It was about a woman who had bad luck with men, but in the end, it all worked out. Don't give up hope is the message.

I was stood up, again. My heart was broken. I often asked myself, are there ANY decent men in this stupid falling world that would actually know how beautiful I am? I mean, it is not like I'm trying to be stuck up or anything. Because the fact is that I have tried to go out on a date with guys, but they would lie to me, they would leave me hanging. They would even cheat on me. I cried my eyes out. And there I was, going out in my red dress, wearing a black stockings, with red six inches stilettos. My hair is combed and my gold hoop earrings worked really well with my red dress and my red lipstick.
I'm in my car driving on I94, just to get to the Whitney Restaurant. I was so eager to get there to meet my blind date. It was funny that he would rather not come and pick me up to take me. I was kind of hoping that he would because I need to save some gas. But he wanted me to meet him there.
As I finally got to the Whitney, I asked the waitress, who were checking for the reservations. I told her that my blind date was suppose to meet me here to have dinner.
"I'm sorry to inform you, but he's not coming."
"What?" I said.
"Yeah. He said something came up, and that he was sorry."
"Did he say something else?" I asked her.
"No. That was it."
My heart was broken, again. I could have stayed at home and watch the Good Times reruns for crying out loud. Tears rolled down my face. I got dressed for nothing all for some jerk who stood me up. He didn't even call me himself to let me know what was up. I held my head down, and thought that never again would I give my heart to a man who doesn't know how to treat me like a lady. Why do I keep attracting losers? As I sat there, weeping my eyes out until they turn red, a man walked over to me and handed me a tissue.
"Here," he said as he slowly lifted my chin up to him to see the tears rolled down my face, "for a beautiful lady like you."
He gently wiped the tears from my face, and my eyes met his. He was a good-looking kind of man. My heart didn't miss a beat, and when he took my hand, it was like Cinderella. Only this time, the clock didn't struck twelve because the date with him was going great. And we've been going out on other dates ever since.

The End

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