7x7.com | San Francisco Dining, Nightlife and Events - Natalie

Remains of the Date

Sometimes parting is just sweet—hold the sorrow.

by Natalie
posted on June 01, 2007

Credits: Benjamin West

I’ve always hated the TV highlights special. Really, there’s nothing “highlight” about it. Why not call it what it actually is: an anticlimactic rehash of the season’s best moments, billed as a way to “catch up” or relive your favorite scenes. It’s not as if anyone is cramming for the final—and who wants to relive fictional characters’ lives anyway? (Grey’s Anatomy: Every Moment Counts, anyone?) So, rather than repurpose material from the past, for our Best Of issue I’ve compiled a list that incorporates all of the best-of-the-worst first dates I’ve been on in the past year, which for some reason or another haven’t yet made it to the page. Think of it as a greatest-hits album of songs you’ve never heard before. Bad songs.

Track 1: “Walk On By”
I’ve never owned a car in the city, so I admit I can’t relate to the plight of the urban driver. But is it wrong to assume that the person with wheels and the prospect of a nightcap make a small sacrifice and drive his date home? Apparently, if you’re dating an engineer named Dave, it is.

Dave: “Hey, I’ve got my car with me, but I’m driving back to Oakland tonight and you’re not really on my way…” (looks at me expectantly)

Me: “Um, I guess I can grab a cab?”

Dave: “Great! So, since you’re taking a cab, we should probably kiss goodnight now.”

I’d like to tell you that I didn’t kiss him. But at the time I was testing a hypothesis: If a guy is a jerk, does that mean he’s a bad kisser? My research points conclusively to no.

Track 2: “Family Affair”
Sebastian was my waiter at a friend’s birthday dinner. He asked for my number on our bill and I jotted it down, feeling as if I should be dotting my name with a heart-shaped “i.” We met up for dinner at Trattoria Contadina the following week. Halfway through the first course, he picked up his phone and gave out the address of the restaurant to the person on the line.

Sebastian: “That was my brother. He just flew in from New York, and our buddy picked him up—hope it’s okay if they meet us.”

Me: “Uh, sure.”

Twenty minutes later, Sebastian’s brother and his friend had squeezed around our two-person table and were helping themselves to our bottle of wine and the remains of my gnocchi. While the siblings caught up on family business, their friend eyed my bread plate. “Are you going to eat that?” he asked, reaching for my
untouched garlic bread. I told him yes and blocked his advance. For me, end-of-the-night garlic breath was suddenly no longer a concern.

Track 3: “Feel Like Making Love”
A few months ago, I went on a blind date with a guy named Bill. We met at the Clift’s Redwood Room, and he seemed really nervous—answering all of my questions with one-word answers and allowing me to fill all the pauses in conversation. After a couple of martinis, he was beginning to loosen up, and to encourage him, I laughed extra-hard at every remotely witty comment, even punctuating my giggles with a friendly hand on his leg as incentive to keep him talking.

Bill: “What do you say we just splurge on a room upstairs?” (Grabs my hand.) “Judging from the signs you’ve been giving me all night, I have a feeling you’re thinking the same thing.”

As I opened my mouth to attempt to explain that I’d just been trying to make him feel comfortable, he pressed a finger to my lips and leaned in to whisper in my ear, “When is my little Cinderella going to turn into a pumpkin?” Oh, storybook endings. We’ll never be the same.

Track 4: “We Are the World”
Jack and I went to college together but lost touch until he dropped me an email out of the blue—he’d moved to SF after finishing a stint in the Peace Corps. We met up for coffee at Ritual. Things were going well until he returned from the bathroom, mumbling under his breath and shaking his head in disgust. I asked him what was wrong, and he launched into a high-volume rant about the self-obsessed girl who had been discussing a problem at work with her friend in line for the bathroom.

Jack: “To spend that amount of time talking about such petty things as whether you’re going to land some account at work when people are suffering—I mean, it’s a crime.”

At this point I wondered what I could possibly tell Jack about myself that wouldn’t aggravate his frivolity intolerance. I had barely enough conversational ammo to ride out this coffee date, never mind the next one.

Guy sitting next to us: “Hey buddy, that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about.”

Jack: “Oh yeah?” (Jack stands, hovering menacingly over our neighbor and raising his voice three octaves.) “Well, you and your girlfriend could stand to read the occasional newspaper—it’s a big world out there.” I didn’t see Jack again—and he’s probably the only Peace Corps alumnus who’s been kicked out of Ritual.

Track 5: “All Apologies”
I met Steven at a gallery opening—we’d barely even talked when he asked for my card, but he seemed nice, so I accepted his invitation for a drink at Casanova. Within five minutes of my arrival, I regretted it.

Steven: “Hey! Good to see you. You look great. This shirt is stupid, I know, but I didn’t get a chance to do laundry this week. I swear, I have better shirts. I mean, none of them are that great—but there are definitely better ones. A lot of them have stains though.” I told him I liked his shirt, but he didn’t seem to hear me. “Other guys probably take you to nicer bars than this one, right? You probably hate this bar, huh?”
You can imagine where it went from there.

Track 6: “Everybody Plays the Fool”
Last on this compilation is an actor who starred in a play a friend of mine directed. Billy showed up for our dinner date at Ozumo wearing a sombrero and, after the edamame, he got up and made a sake toast to the entire restaurant. When we’d finished dinner, he asked me to dance.
Me: “Um, there’s no dance floor, and people are eating. Maybe later?”

Billy: “Nat, don’t get so hung up on what other people think. We’ll be doing this uptight crowd a favor—they’ll have a story for the rest of the night about that couple at dinner. They’ll wish they were us.”

Au contraire, Billy: At that moment I wished we were anyone but us. Still, I realize, looking over this list, that the Billy situation was at least the most honest of my year’s worst dates. Because let’s face it, every first date is at its heart a self-consciously forced and unnatural dance. And the upswing of even the worst dates (more so than the best ones) is that you invariably leave with a (so-bad-it’s-good) story to tell.

email page | print page

1 | 2 | 3 | NEXT> | VIEW ALL