1/6/09 - Date Two: Ethiopian food and "Really?"

When I told friends that I was meeting someone for a first date and we were having Ethiopian nearly everyone responded the same way: with a look of horror. You eat Ethiopian food with your hands, in case you didn't know that, and everyone thought maybe that was a little too intimate for a first date. I chose it because A) I really like Ethiopian food, B) he'd never had it and C) it's cost efficient for a first date where he asked me out but then told me to choose the venue. Now, on these two points, I must take a little detour from the story of the date to make a few general observations.

First - when someone asks me out and then asks me to choose the place, this is a little bit of a check minus for me. With this particular guy, it was no biggie because he just moved here and therefore probably felt a little nervous picking a place when he's not very familiar with the area. Fine. It's a totally different story, however, when the person you're meeting has lived in the city for years and essentially refuses to decide where to meet. It puts you in a very awkward position. Especially when you're meeting for food. Especially when you expect them to pay. After having done this for quite a long while, this is a signal to me of a lack of confidence and indicates some level of laziness that may become a problem in the future if things progress beyond dinner. 

This leads me to my second point. MEN SHOULD PAY FOR THE FIRST DATE. PERIOD. Yes, maybe that's old fashioned, antiquated, anti-feminist. Whatever. I support myself completely. I have an apartment I pay rent for, a car I pay to put gas in, and I am more than capable of buying myself a side salad, an entree, and perhaps a couple drinks. This is not the point. I'm the woman. I'm on a date. You should be trying to impress me, woo me, court me. You, as the man, should be taking care of me for that two hours while we have dinner. You should open the door for me, pull out the chair (if possible), listen intently when I talk, ask me about myself, and PAY FOR MY FOOD/DRINK(S). In exchange for these reasonable courtesies, I will choose a menu option that is not outrageously expensive, I will listen intently when you talk, laugh seductively at your jokes, and I may show you a little cleavage if you're lucky. 

Ok, back to the date. We met at this little restaurant that I love. Very small and intimate. I got there early and he arrived about five minutes late, which is okay as it was raining cats and doggies outside. Immediately I was impressed. He was dressed well, shook my hand firmly, complimented the restaurant, said he was excited to try the food. We started talking while reading the menu. As he'd never had this particular cuisine, he deferred to me and I ordered for us. It was while we were waiting for the food to arrive that things began to become clear: I was not going to like this one. Everything I said, whether it was a story, an answer to a question he asked, a random observation, was immediately followed with him leaning forward, wide-eyed, saying "Really?" I began to get the impression that this person had possibly never left his apartment. That he'd never done anything or gone anywhere. That he was devoid of experience. New to the world. Which, for someone who is over 30, is a bit odd and somewhat disconcerting.  We got through the dinner and he seemed to enjoy the food, which was good. I figured at the very least I had won a new, loyal customer for this establishment. As we left and walked to our respective residences, I was still being met with "Really?" and I thought that if he said it one more time, I might not be able to stop myself from turning to him, and screaming, "YES!! REALLY!!" 

Sigh. I heard from him via text that night. He said he had a great time and after he got back from his upcoming out of town business trip, he'd like to go out again. I said ok, thinking maybe all the "Really"s were a result of nervousness and that maybe he deserved a second chance. When he got back into town the next Saturday night, he asked me if I was free. I wrote that I wasn't, because I wasn't ... I then woke up the next morning to the following text message sent at 6:27 a.m.: "U don't want to see me again?" 

Well, not now!! The hell? 

Oh, I need to make an addition to the comments above about paying for the first date. When they get the check and bust out the debit card, we should always make the polite offer to pay or at least leave a tip. They should then politely decline. It's like a well choreographed dance and experienced daters usually know the steps ... with this guy, I offered to pay and he said, "If you want." Bad, bad, bad. I laid down the ten dollars I had in my wallet and made a mental note.