Where's Roger Lodge when you need him?

Last night I discovered my favorite Upper East Side restaurant is apparently quite the rendezvous point for blind dates.

I won't mention its name because last time I did there was an influx of strange people taking up all the seats at the bar where I like to sit by myself, relax, zone out, read the Daily News and have an amusing little red with my meal. Thank you.

I digress. Thursday night, there were THREE blind date couples meeting there.

I'm not exaggerating - three.

I saw them all do the awkward "handshake or tentative kiss, not quite sure if this is the right person" hello.

And, sadly, also, the look of quite visible disappointment in some eyes. I guess a few people weren't quite honest in how they described themselves, or else their picture was heavily Photoshopped.

Honestly, I wasn't eavesdropping. I like to go to this place alone and not talk to anyone, because I talk much of the day for a living, and read the newspaper from cover to cover. And the bartender is great with the buybacks (thanks, Jerry). But unable to avoid hearing some of these conversations, well, let me just say - oy gevalt.

Some of you guys seriously have no rap. It's amazing the human race propagates at all.