Perhaps you’ve heard of it, but hopefully you haven’t.

CrazyBlindDate is a localized online dating site offered insta-dates to very brave slash desperate people.

Basically you sign up for a blind date within the next 6 hours to 3 days. Yes, you read that right. That very night or up to 3 days from that very night.

You specify a very few things about yourself: age, location, basic interests, sexual preference.

You answer an even fewer questions about the kind of date you want to go on: coffee date, drinks date, dinner date, activity date (I don’t know – maybe go to a museum? Or maybe go to be killed…).

You are then matched with a person whose picture you do not see. You’re provided their very few things about them and told to go meet them at a place in a range you selected at the time in the range you selected for a date of the variety you selected.

I haven’t gone through the process for a number of reasons I’m about to get into, but the above synopsis is 85% correct based on my research.

Verdict: shit’s bananas – Gwen Stefani not Rachel Zoe-style.

I pride myself on being one to try new things and, as we know, have taken some marked risks in my recent days, but I’m not sure I have the booby to go through with this (booby = female balls). Waayy too many what if’s…

Like – what if I get there and the guy tries to kidnap me? We meet. He assesses my general body weight and probable strength, slips a Rufie in my very dirty martini, three olives, and drags me out to the unmarked, poop-brown passenger van he’s parked out back. Yes I know I technically can’t be kidnapped as I am no longer kid, and that the likelihood of him finding a parking spot in close enough proximity to the coffee shop sos not to draw attention is slim to none, but it could happen, and I can’t have the Soho see-and-be-seen crowd seeing me slumped over dead-man-stroke style in some dirty guys arms. Image = destroyed.

Or, what if he signed up for Crazy Blind Date as some sort of “To Catch a Theif” Dateline piece he’s producing and those so-my-type black plastic glasses he’ll be wearing are actually a mini camera filming my every sappy move for eventual broadcast in primetime. He’ll act all, “isn’t is just so hard here in New York” and “didn’t you too just feel like you’d do anything to feel some real human connection…” Six hours later: “And now for our expose into just how far single New York City women will go to meet a decent guy. We paid our own John Johnson time and two halves to get him to go on a Crazy Blind Date – the very sad results after this break.”

And then there’s the chance that my guy isn’t some clever con of sucker journalist but actually, genuinely believes this is the best option for meeting someone. He’s been there, done that, bought the “if you don’t meet someone in 6 months the next 6 are free!” subscription and now he’s here – on the dizzy bat equivalent of a dating site – thinking maybe the best approach is no approach at all.

“I know, but it would make the best blog post,” Geanna said.

Well – hopefully it already did.

But – yes, I might still do it.