I never told a soul, but I always loved landing on the “nerd” when I played Mystery Date. I didn’t have my own version of the popular Milton Bradley board game, but my friend always brought her big sister’s game to slumber parties, where we’d take turns opening a plastic door to see who was picking us up for our pretend date.
We quickly realized the amount of pressure you put on the little doorknob would determine which young man was waiting on the other side, so we all tried our best to rig it so we’d land on the handsome young man wearing a white dinner jacket and holding a corsage – dreamy.
If I opened the door and found the preppy guy with a picnic basket, I thought he looked okay, but for some reason, didn’t strike me as trustworthy. The football player was popular with everyone, but I was convinced he’d only want to talk about sports because I’d heard about guys with one track minds. The boy holding snow skis just confused us, because as little Southern girls, we didn’t even know what snow was.
But the truth is, whenever I opened the door and found the “dud,” as the game referred to him, I was completely smitten. With thick glasses and rumpled hair, he looked like today’s hipsters who sit around coffee shops, so maybe I was ahead of the trend.
The sad thing is, when Mr. Dud showed up at the door, everyone would squeal and laugh. If I was the one who found him, I’d act mortified, but deep down inside, I felt . . . click HERE to finish reading the story at AL.com.