Worst date ever

As NaBloPoMo drains me and I have little to write about I thought back to my mental archives. This is the true story of a date I actually went on. I'm not proud of it, but there isn't any exaggeration here.

I'll also confess that I met the guy online, and at that time, he seemed perfectly normal. I can't remember his name, but we'll call him Carl. We exchanged a few emails, he seemed capable of intelligent conversation. Seemed being the operative word in both those sentences. I hadn't seen a picture of Carl, but he hadn't seen mine either, and while I'm far from a knockout, I can't say I usually make people run screaming in the other direction so I figured he was in the same category.

Carl asked me out after an exchange of emails, and he told me to pick any restaurant and dinner was "on him." I agreed to meet him at my favourite local restaurant which was somewhere I was comfortable, where I knew the owner, and where I knew the food would be good.

Since I lived within walking distance and it was a beautiful summer day I walked the 20 minutes to get there - we had agreed to meet at 7 sharp at his instruction.

Even at a place where you know the owners and you're warmly welcomed it's odd to sit alone, waiting. There were other patrons at other tables in the small place and I felt like they were saying "poor dear, stood up" to each other about me. My checking my watch every few minutes probably didn't help that perception. I started to get was a bit miffed to be left waiting. I even went in back to say hello to the owner and converse in some broken English with gestures. I drank my water and poured myself another.

After 20 minutes I ordered a Thai iced coffee for myself (nectar of the gods that it is) and continued to peruse the menu like I hadn't seen it a gagillion times. I figured 20 minutes was the magical time. Sure, someone can easily be late 10, even 15 minutes because of some comedy of errors like having to change at the last minute, traffic, or not being able to find your keys. It can happen to anyone, and I'm totally understanding about. Once I hit the 7:20 mark, it it crossed that indefinite line to "maybe something happened, no big deal" to "this is getting rather jerky."

I made a deal with myself that if he weren't there by 7:25 I would order a tom yum soup and leave and curse him the whole way home.

Twenty-five minutes passed, I finished my coffee with an unexpected slurp and the owner came over and I ordered my tom yum. Just then I was blinded by a flash of light. It turned out to be my date's head being hit by the sun as he walked through the double doors.

To say I found him unattractive would be to say Everest is a big mountain, or that the Arctic is cold during wintertime. He looked like Homer Simpson with his two strands of hair in a combover that was so awful I think it would give the Queer Eye guys simultaneous heart attacks. I decided, though that I wasn't going to just back out right there - he could have a sparkling personality and quick wit that could make the night enjoyable. and he seemed to have both in his emails.

He stumbled in mumbling something about "late" that didn't include "sorry" or "have you been waiting long" and I decided to wipe the slate clean with Carl the homer-esque man across the table from me. I cheerily started the conversation, asked him what he'd done so far that day, what his favourite music was, about his job general small-talkey stuff. I even tried talking about the weather, and he mostly just sat there looking at the table, stunned, unsure what to say. The conversation consisted either of me talking or silence. His facial expression didn't change with either.

When it came to ordering I had my tom yum soup and I ordered mango sticky rice for dessert (is there a more perfect food than mango sticky rice?), and he decided nothing interested him so he had plain white rice and a dish they prepared "extra bland" for him (which I translated into "no spice" for him to the puzzled owner). This is after the guy implored me with his love of Thai food. Apparently he hadn't tried it before.

Apart from the above, there were four major things that made dinner really unpleasant. He chewed with his mouth open, smacking his food and lips constantly. He licked his fork and knife like it was an ice cream cone in front of him (paging Dr. Freud). One of the few things he said that night was that my soup smelled spicy and made his nose run. That led to him blowing his nose rather explosively right at the table (and not neatly) into the napkin. The spray range on it was awful. He then reached across the table to be suave hold my hand when they cleared my plate. Yeah that didn't go anywhere as I quickly grabbed my water and put my hands in my lap, out of sneeze range. He blew his nose a few other times as well, attracting the attention of other tables that night, and I sank into my chair and tried to hide behind my soup bowl unsuccessfully. He also belched out the side of his mouth no fewer than four times without so much as an "oops" or a "hah pretty good, eh?!"

When I asked what he thought of the food he said his was "awful" and "way too spicy" and had "too many vegetables."

He did eventually start responding to things I asked him as opposed to staring at the table, but didn't bother to wait until his mouth was empty to talk. Food flew when he spoke. I recall a single grain landing in my soup and pushing it away. If Dave had done that now (as a joke) I'd have finished the soup. With this guy? No freaking way.

Mercifully the bill arrived not too long after. It sat there, unacknowledged by him for a good 20 minutes. He'd been the one to ask me out said it was "on him." I was a starving law student, he bragged in his emails about bringing money in hand over fist and not knowing what to do with it all. Despite all that, I needed to take action and end this. I decided to go to the bathroom and hope it might be taken care of when I got back. When it wasn't I grabbed it off the table and said "well since you're not going to, I'll get this," and he muttered something about "oh I'll get it next time." I almost ran to the counter to pay, thinking that would free me from the awful situation I was in more quickly. Seconds counted. The faster Visa processed this, the sooner I was outta here. Unfortunately, it wasn't the perfect cure, as when the owner went to collect our dishes, he insisted that the two mouthfuls of food he had left (seriously, two bites. honest, and he didn't like it!) and I told him I should call it a night, that I had homework to do for school. He asked if there were law school classes taught during the summer, and I acknowledged that no, there weren't.

He offered to walk me home, and I said I would be fine. I stopped to politely say goodnight at his car (no idea why in hindsight) when he suddenly moves in for the kill. Like a plecostomus to aquarium glass in a south facing window, he came toward me, mouth open, eyes closed. I thought his giant mouth was going to swallow me. I reached out for his hand to shake it (forgetting momentarily he had just sneezed entire colonies of bacteria and viruses onto it, which likely included new species never seen before) and said goodnight, knowing I would never return any of the subsequent 7 phone messages he left for me.

So that's my worst date story. What's yours?


The best date I've had? Read about it here.

Serendipity, baby

I still have some afterglow after last night's date.

Up until the very end Dave wouldn't tell me were we were going, just that I should dress up.

When we got on the highway I had narrowed it down to two places.

I had first thought we might be going to the little Italian restaurant on Danforth where he had planned to propose. As it turned out that night we were given a table in the corner, and there wasn't enough space for him to propose there. (I wondered why he was so upset about where we were sitting that night.)

My second guess, though, was right.

We paid the requisite arm and leg fee for parking, and walked toward the CN Tower.

The top floor accessible to the public is the renowned restaurant 360. For those who don't know, it's the restaurant atop the CN tower, which revolves slowly so you see the view from every angle while you enjoy the kitchen's award winning cuisine. We walked past the various cues of people and took the elevator to the top, ears popping every few seconds. We were seated at a table right next to the glass.

The noise of the other parties quickly faded behind us. We spent most of the dinner quietly gazing in each others' eyes. We didn't talk about much, both of us just seemed so relaxed and into the moment that conversation wasn't necessary. Much that was said was unspoken.

As we were seated and browsed the menu, we passed the spot where we got engaged, along the lakefront beside the Westin Harbour Castle that cold February night. We instantly recalled the view from our hotel room that weekend overlooking the sugar refinery and the lake. We pointed out other landmarks we knew, and occasionally talked about the days and years to come. We watched the ferry crossing over to the Islands and the Island airport, still, below us. We watched what looked like tiny origami boats racing across the waters.

In our relationship I'm definitely the worrier. I wonder, sometimes aloud, how is it that two people who are so different can work so well together? Dave is a captain in the military and I have a minor in peace studies. When we moved in together he had 2 giant dogs, and I had two cats who had never been around dogs. We are yin and yang. When I question how it is that we work so well together he always tells me "serendipity, baby." And, he's right. It's not the only thing that keeps us going, and it's not something we rely on, but we seem to have an inordinate amount of it around us. He landed a job in the 'shwa which was halfway between where he was living in Windsor, and where I was living in Ottawa, and I landed one a couple of weeks later. When the first house we bought didn't work out, we found one we liked better a block away. Things have aways seemed to have fallen into place and worked out for us, and I can't explain how.

As the restaurant slowly turned toward the west we had another dose of serendipity. As though it hadn't been perfect to start dinner overlooking the spot where we got engaged on a cold February night, as it turned west we were timed perfectly to watch the sun set among the clouds. The sky was painted in ribbons of pinks, reds, purples yellows and oranges with the blue clouds providing the perfect contrast at every moment. In seconds the sun sank like a rock below the horizon.

The meal itself was enjoyed slowly (though Dave still eats as though someone will eat it for him if he doesn't eat it quickly enough). The appetizer course was a tomato arugula salad with lots of peccorino cheese, and some of the best olive oil I've ever tasted. I savoured every bite.

My main course was a risotto with chanterelle mushrooms and an aged goat cheese. The risotto was good but really wasn't anything to write home about. It didn't seem to matter, though, because food really didn't feel like the focus of the night, even though we were out for dinner.

As we ate, we quietly talked of the days ahead, but not the stresses that will come with them, or the work that is to be done; only of our commitment to each other and him telling me how beautiful he knows I'll look as I walk down the aisle, or how beautiful I was that night.

We looked at land marks north of the tower, saw planes just as they descended toward the airport, or just as they were rising in the sky. We talked about our excitement that soon we'll be taking off on our first real vacation alone together.

As desert (which for me was a tower of chocolate with fruit coulis and fresh fruit) was served the restaurant had turned back to the spot where we got engaged. We held hands and sipped tea, and looked below us at the baseball game. It looked as though it was a tiny mosaic with the blue seats and the crowd watching were tiny tiles.

We sipped tea again facing the water, and strolled down to the observation deck where we could hear the game, and to the glass floor. I strolled across, heels and all, while Dave watched from the solid floor, unable to overcome years of evolution which screamed "you've got to be kidding!" at him. We lingered a while holding hands, stopping to kiss in complete ignorance of people around us. He lent me his jacket when I got cold.

I had really hoped to find a comfy leather couch and bottle of wine on the observation deck where we could just curl up together and enjoy the night, but neither were available. We took the elevator back down, I joked with the operator, and we strolled back to the car, still enjoying every moment and looking at each other starry-eyed.

I still feel starry-eyed this morning. Dave's just changed my flat tire for me so I'm off to pick up my wedding dress from its final alterations, with garbage bags in tow so he doesn't see it until I'm wearing it at the top of an asile, only three days from now.



(but I have to say the feminist and jokester in me is still screaming "who knew dinner at the top of a giant phallus could be so romantic?!")