Little did I know what I was getting into. Once again, I agreed to be set up on a blind date. Why I keep agreeing to these things, I will never know. But Janson sold me on this Corellian named Wedge Antilles who is apparently a semi-famous pilot and flew with Luke Skywalker. He had been on a few important missions for the Rebellion and was well liked by most of the other pilots. Janson was able to supply me with some images of Wedge and I liked what I saw, plus I had nothing else better to do while I was spending some time on Tatooine.

I have to admit, by the time of our date, I was really looking forward to meeting this guy. I mean, what girl wouldn't be interested in meeting someone who sounds so intriguing? While I was waiting for him to arrive, my imagination was running wild… is he the strong silent type? Is he outgoing and cocky? Does he like tall women or short women? Should I show more cleavage? Does this dress make me look fat? Do I have time to brush my teeth? Wedge arrived right after I had decided to change and my dress was now around my knees. I told him to please wait outside while I finished dressing and he didn't look very happy about it from what I could see on the holocam. I found out that I was correct about that, because when I finally met him at the door he snidely said, "So, do you always leave your dates hanging like that?" Okaaaaaaay. I could tell this was off to a fabulous start.

First, we had dinner at a place that was well known for its grilled nuna. The food was decent, the service was good, the conversation was a disaster. I tried to talk about things he would be interested in, ask him about his missions, I even tried to entertain him with some stories of my own. No matter what I brought up, all he could talk about was Luke Luke Luke. He was obsessed with comparing himself to Luke Skywalker. Ok, granted - Luke Skywalker is really hot, courageous, smart, talented, and has that whole Jedi thing going. But constantly comparing yourself until you are bitter and jealous is just self-defeating and annoying for the woman sitting across from you. Wedge was on a roll and started ranting about how it should have been him, not Luke, that fired the fatal shot at the Death Star's thermal exhaust port. At this point, I was zoning out pretending I was interested in what he was saying and wishing that he was Luke Skywalker. In fact, anybody else would have been a welcome substitute, even that cold ass Boba Fett. At least he would have shut up long enough for me to get a word in edgewise.