I tried dating my optometrist once, but it didn’t work out – we never really saw eye to eye.

I miss her sometimes though, she was quite the looker.  She used to tell me I had the most beautiful eyes too – not the iris part, but the actual structure of the cornea.  She said it turned her on when my pupils got big and black.

She was also quite the nerd, which was right up my alley.  She made a webpage for her optometry office.  She called it a “site for sore eyes.”

She had her faults though.  She would never decide anything.  If we were trying to think of a place to eat, it was always:

Her: “Which sounds better, Chinese or American?”
Me: “Um, American.”
Her: “Ok, American or Italian?”
Me: “I guess Italian.”
Her: “Ok, Italian or Mexican?”

I knew it wasn’t going to last when I came home early one day and caught her finding pleasure from a plastic toy – damn those Mr. Potato Head eyes.  The last straw was when she broke my glasses – I told her I couldn’t see her anymore.  I guess I should have realized that it wasn’t never meant to be, but like they say, love is blind … and hindsight is 20/20.