Monday, March 7, 2011

A momentous occasion...

If the President were on my date, this is what he'd look like.
Why the update so soon after the last? Well, ladies and gentleman, I had an experience this weekend that sent me running for my blog. The minute it happened, I knew I had to share it with the world, and quickly. This was the blogworthy experience of the century… perhaps it may even be the epitome of my blog.

This weekend, I officially had the worst date of my entire life.

Now, I feel terrible writing this, because I know the gentleman in question is an avid reader of Sara for Sale, and I know he’s going to read this and probably feel pretty surprised and rather salty. But I’m hoping maybe he will learn something from this that will help him in his future dating endeavors and prevent him from becoming someone else’s worst first date ever. Also, I don't really care about hurting his feelings. Sorry dude, but you had it coming.

Let’s start from the beginning. We were meeting for lunch, and he suggested a place in my neighborhood, one of my favorites, actually. I took this as a good sign, and had high hopes for the date, as he had already passed a significant test by accommodating to my convenience instead of suggesting I meet him somewhere closer to where he lives.

But that’s about where it peaked. Within five minutes of sitting down, I wanted to leave. I admit, the initial repulsion, I can’t blame him for. He wasn’t unattractive, he wasn’t dirty, he didn’t have an obviously disgusting habit or anything like that, but he just rubbed me the wrong way immediately. Again, I won’t fault him for it, because there was nothing he could have done differently, but the vibe was immediately not a good one.

But that’s about where the “no one to blame” ends and the “all his fault” begins. As we looked over the menu, he suddenly exclaimed with such passion that I half expected to look up to see him being attacked, but no, he was still looking at the menu. “$13 for mac and cheese?!”

After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I said, “Well I’ve heard it’s really good, it’s made with really nice cheeses and has bacon and all kinds of stuff in it.” I also made a mental note to not order it and looked back at the menu to choose something else, but I was too distracted by my current state of shock over the fact that this guy, this guy who chose the restaurant, decided it was okay on a first date to express his disgust over what he thought was the unacceptably high price of a menu item. Was he trying to impress me even the tiniest bit?

Not only did he prove he had no knowledge of food or the fact that the ingredients used to make good, high-quality macaroni and cheese cost more than the powdered cheese product and unenriched, starch-ridden macaroni noodles used to make Kraft macaroni and cheese, but clearly he also knew nothing about the tact and discretion necessary to make a good first impression. Besides, what did he expect me to think? Oh yes, let me date you and look forward to a whole relationship of you complaining about spending $13 for a meal! Not to mention, he has a good job at which I’m guessing he probably makes more money than I do, yet I still am able (and happy) to take myself out for a nice meal from time to time, meals that cost more than $13.

He ended up ordering it, at which point I decided it was safe for me to do so as well, so I did. As we waited for our food, the boring conversation continued. We talked about work, he told me some stories he’d already told me in our Gchat conversations, and I babbled a lot to avoid the awkward silence that would have ensued if I hadn’t. At one point, he asked me what kind of food I liked, and after I answered, he pointed out that he lives near a bunch of restaurants that are “too expensive” for him to patronize. I resisted the urge to grab the nearest fork and stab myself in the eye so I could have an excuse to leave.

When the food came, I was tempted to ask him if it was worth all $13. Instead of offering to run down the street to my apartment where I probably had a box of Kraft sitting around somewhere, I held my tongue.

Soon, the end was in sight. He asked the waitress for the check, and I had an internal battle. You see, I usually don’t offer to pay on a first date. Nine guys out of ten would never let the girl pay on a first date, and I think it makes it more awkward to offer when we both know I’m not going to pay. I do know some people who think differently. I know some men who would prefer that the woman not offer and agree that it just makes the situation awkward, and others who prefer the woman at least offer, even though they do not intend to let her pay. But I’ve never heard anyone argue about whether or not a man should actually let a woman pay. I don’t know a single person who believes a woman should pay anything on the first date. Honestly, the whole situation just makes me uncomfortable and is part of what makes me the most nervous about first dates. Sometimes I decide I’m going to offer, but when the time comes I just clam up and don’t. I’m always relieved when a man is prepared and hands his credit card to the waitress just as she brings the check.

But given this guy’s complete lack of tact, I knew I really needed to offer this time. So when the check came, I reached in my purse and pulled out my credit card. As I reached out to put it with the check, he said “Actually—” and I hesitated, expecting the rest of the sentence to be “don’t worry, I’ve got it.” But silly me! “Actually,” he said, “it’s exactly 50/50 because we had the same thing.” I dropped the card with the bill instead of dropping my jaw to the floor.

As we left, he said, “Well we should definitely do this again sometime.” I don’t like to lie, but I just said “Uh huh, sure, talk to you later, bye!” I probably almost got hit by a car crossing the street, but I needed to get as far away as possible, and immediately. With equal urgency, I called my friend and blurted out “I just went on the worst date of my life!”

Thinking about it later, I wondered if maybe he’d been equally as bored as I had, and didn’t want to waste his money on a girl in whom he had no interest. Rude, but understandable. But just a few hours later, he sent me an email with an article about something we’d talked about and said he hoped the television shopping trip I was going on with my roommate was fruitful. Obviously, he was not running for the hills like I was.

Needless to say, I won’t be responding.

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