Matchmaker, Matchmaker Make Me a Match

Before internet dating became the norm, I signed up with a matchmaking service, which featured 3-ring binders full of members' one-page profiles that included pictures. I picked out a decent-looking guy in his early 40's with interests and attributes I liked and we arranged to go on a date. So in walks this guy, who had to be in his 60's, with a horribly bad toupee and he makes a beeline for me. At this point, I wanted to die but I decided to be polite and not walk out so, instead, we sat down for dinner. Big mistake. I don't even remember what we talked about during dinner because all I could hear was the whistling coming from his ill-fitting upper dental plate every time he spoke. Since I didn't walk out on him or take him to task for lying on his profile, which I now suspect other women had justifiably done, he took this to mean that I liked him and hounded me with phone calls that I managed to avoid for weeks until one late night at work. I quickly pretended that my phone was malfunctioning and that I couldn't hear who was on the other end of the line. He kept saying, "I know you can hear me," upper plate whistling all the while through the speakerphone. At least, he never called again!