Night Crawler

The Dating Game

Comments (0) By Silke Tudor Wednesday, Nov 24 1999

...continued from page 1

In the taping room, I am told to stand with my toes on a white line, my head up, shoulders at an angle. I am surrounded by large white screens; there's a microphone up my shirt, a blazing light in my eyes, and a huge camera a few feet from my face. Don't look at the camera, stay angled, act natural, be animated.

"It's purposefully uncomfortable," explains the well-groomed interviewer, "because blind dates can be uncomfortable." Don't look at the camera, keep your feet on the line, use your hands, act natural, repeat the question in your answer, relax. "Have you done anything outrageous?"

Brandon Fernandez

Ben Smith on his blind date.

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The question throws me. Outrage? My mind races: Ritual sodomy, psychedelic liturgy, bloodletting, lunar eclipse, bridge climbing, Voodoo rites, midget bullfighting, cockroach eating, Holy Communion with the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence -- this is just life in the city.

"Nothing comes to mind," I stammer.

"OK, is there anything you would never do?"

"There's some things I wouldn't do again: watching someone eat feces. I wouldn't do that again." Don't look at the camera. Relax ...

I'm a Blind Datedud.

But Jill Smelser and Cyndi Popper are perfect.

Smelser is paired with 29-year-old Sega engineer Mike Wilson. He brings her flowers. Since Wilson is new to the area, they go to Pier 39 for tourist fun, then to dinner -- just a man, a woman, a giant floodlight, and a camera crew. Conversation is easy, even a little charged. They discuss the pros and cons of going braless, the effects of seeing the top of a woman's thong underwear. The crew knows it's getting the juice. At the end of the date there's what Smelser calls a "big, crazy-ass, rock-star kiss." The crew misses Wilson's car getting towed and the ensuing drinks that lead to his staying over at Smelser's apartment.

"There was talk of condoms even at the bar," says Smelser, "but we were too drunk by the time we got back to my place." Never fear, another date is in the works for this week.

Sadly, Popper does not fare so well. She's paired with an auto detailer from Santa Rosa named Ben Smith. They're rained out, and eat sundaes at Ghirardelli Square before going for a workout at Gold's Gym, but by the third hour, the chemistry is already toxic. In the changing room, personal trainer Nancy Morano consoles the fashion-conscious Popper: "I see what you mean. He's a real dork."

"And in the car, he asked me if I saw him walking down the street, wouldn't I think he gets tons of dates," bemoans Popper, who earlier said she would rather date an arrogant man than a Ken doll or wimp. "I may have said some stupid things on this show but he's going to get massacred."

"She's really standoffish," says Smith. "She has a wall up the size of the China wall. It's too bad because she's really pretty and she's in great shape, but she's hard to hold a conversation with. I've done a lot of work on myself, physical, spiritual, some therapy. Her idea of spirituality is probably watching The Witches of Eastwick."

At dinner, things go from bad to worse. When Popper steps outside for a cigarette, Smith is appalled.

"This is the worst date I've ever been on," he says to himself. "Is anyone here single?" He tells a woman sitting nearby that he'd be better off if Popper were dead.

"It's like cultural anthropology," says Blind Date field producer Diane Korman, who has gone on no fewer than 84 dates in six months since last working for Discovery Channel's EcoChallenge. "Maybe only 10 percent of these dates work out really well, but that's probably indicative of the dating world in general. People are people, wherever you go."

Thankfully, there are others willing to do the legwork.

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