I
met Jason at a networking event and he soon invited me on a date the following
week. He chose an expensive wine bar in downtown Denver called Cru. I noticed
that he suggested grabbing a "drink" and not "dinner” so I made
sure to eat beforehand. I looked forward to talking with him further and
to my fancy glass of Pinot Noir.
When
I arrived, Jason was sitting at the bar with a crisp glass of Pinot Gris in
hand. He gave me a big hug and suggested we sit at the corner table. I sized
him up and down and instead picked a table outside.
Sitting
across from Jason, I assessed his dress: He was wearing Chaco's, a rust-orange
button down shirt (so badly wrinkled around each button that the fabric looked
parched and cracked after days of wear in a desert) and…shorts. I was seriously
distraught at what I saw. For the record, I blew out my hair (which takes
forever), wore tight jeans, a sparkly tank top, a long necklace, and kick-ass
heels. My point is, he took under 30 seconds to throw on his field-work clothes
and I took...a lot longer.
Next,
Jason suggested that we order a flight of wine. I was not pleased. I already knew
which wine I liked but I felt I had to roll with it. Panic set in, as I knew
that we were going to have to SHARE THE GLASSES. Yes, I'd probably sleep with a
guy who can put a nice outfit together but that's not my point. I don't like swapping
spittle on flutes. It’s disgusting!
I
gulped when Jason asked if I was hungry. Despite my refusal, he ordered an
enormous cheese plate for us to share. MORE SHARING! I mumbled something about
blue cheese (as a joke) as nothing makes your breath smell more than crumbles
le stink. I’m sure you can guess which cheese plate he ordered. I was
miserable.
When
the flight was presented, I went from unhappy to sheer dismay. Jason hopped
around from glass to glass completely OUT OF ORDER! He gulped, didn't sniff,
didn't savor and I watched his bearded face and mouth converge on each glass in
horrific slow motion. I knew I would have to taste those very glasses next and
I was simply SICKENED. I made sure to twist the glass stem around ever so
slightly (and obviously) when it was my turn to sip. Meanwhile, he didn't let
me taste first. Jerk.
When
the cheese plate came out Jason spread almost all of the fig compote on the
bread, had one taste of the blue, nearly vomited and proclaimed that it was
“bad”. He said the veins of mold really freaked him out. I didn't even respond.
I DID, however, cleave a chunk of the Manchengo before he wolfed it down and
left ME with the blue.
In
desperation we both signaled the waiter to order more wine. Jason asked for an
additional Pinot Gris and I finally got the jammy-jammy, cherry-cherry with
notes of wood. It was very-very good.
When
the bill came, it was $105. I don't know how. I don't really even care.
Jason
had a near-heart-attack. He sat there for a long while. I stared at him
directly and uncomfortably with disdain and contempt in my eyes. He then suggested
we split the bill. I thought for a moment and offered: "I will contribute
$21". He was speechless at my acute attention to math.
Then,
like a heaven-sent angel, the waiter came to collect payment. He pleasantly
inquired, "How was everything?" Jason replied, “Everything was great”
and was all smiles. He made a big show of being the "man" and said it
was good to meet him and his name was Jason. Jason, and I kid you not (how
could I?) then said: "And this is Angela." He then panicked." I
mean Amanda."
I
was horrified. "I'm Samantha" I deadpanned. I then took the bill/fold
before the waiter grabbed it and took back my cash. I said loudly (and the two
other women who were at the table next to us can verify), that he could pay for
the bill being as he didn't even know who he was dating.
I
left the table mid-payment and walked to my car.
Strangely
he texted me "Did you make it home ok? I had a great time tonight and
would like to see you again."
I
hit delete.
Jessica, I don't know whether to laugh or cry for you. What a horrible first date! The next ones can only get better, right?
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