Lincoln Center
Last night was Saturday - date night! - and I actually had plans to do just that. I usually don't mention things like this in my blog in the event that the parties involved may read this site at some point, but the date was just so...so BAD that I'm willing to take the risk.
I had met this person last week; we were set up by a friend and met for drinks and things went fine. There weren't any fireworks, but there never are for me the very first time I meet someone. Examples: C talked of nothing but himself on our first meeting. D made a girl cry the first time I met him. G...well, I don't remember what I thought of G when we first met but he was dating someone else at the time anyway, so it wasn't important. K struck me as interesting and funny...and that was flat wrong. So when I don't get too excited the first time I meet someone, I don't feel like it means anything which is why I made plans to go on a date with this guy last night.
I should have called off the date as soon as we made our plans. We met for dinner at 8, in Bellevue, at a restaurant called 'What the Pho". Now pho today is what teriyaki must've been ten years ago - a $5 dinner with chopsticks and a paper napkin. This pho place was no exception and there was cafeteria lighting (and tables and chairs) and a tv on in the corner. The guy arrived and we ordered our pho and tried to have a conversation, but I was a little too bugged with the situation to invest a lot in it. Pho?? On a date? When you're not in high school? I made it through dinner and when the check arrived I reached for my wallet. Now this is something I do on a first date. I reach for my wallet and wait for the guy to say "no, I've got this one" and then I offer to split it and he says no and I insist and he insists and I say something cute about getting the check the next time. It's just how it's done. So the bill comes and I reach for my wallet and the guy takes my money! He didn't even offer to pay for my $5 bowl of noodles.
In the meantime, here's how our conversation went:
I told him an interesting story and he said: "so that's just a long way of saying that you don't like sprouts."
I talked about my OB class and how I was having vivid dreams about attending births and he said: "it sounds like you're really insecure about how well you understand the material."
I asked if he'd heard that Richard Pryor died and he said: "no. But blah-de-blah won the Heisman trophy."
Next we went over to Lincoln Center which was the reason he picked the pho restaurant in the first place. LC is this big empty box next to Bellevue Square with a few restaurants, a bar, a container store and a movie theater. He was interested in checking it out - "it's just opening this weekend. It's going to be packed" - and so we drove there and parked in the garage. We were parked nearer to the stairs than the elevater - him: "you don't mind taking the stairs, right?" - so I lugged my butt, in my high heels, up five flights of stairs. When we finally got to the bar/pool hall he wanted to go to there was a big sign outside announcing "private party". Thank god. I'd really had it with him by this time and was prepared to have exactly one drink and then get out as fast as I could, which would be a lot faster if there wasn't a game of pool to finish. So then we headed to another restaurant/bar, taking the stairs - in my high heels - down three flights of stairs to discover that all of the doors from the stairwell were locked. So we wandered up and down and then finally made it onto the street and had to loop back around to get into a restaurant.
I had my one drink - in a bar with a tv on the wall - and left for home.
I had met this person last week; we were set up by a friend and met for drinks and things went fine. There weren't any fireworks, but there never are for me the very first time I meet someone. Examples: C talked of nothing but himself on our first meeting. D made a girl cry the first time I met him. G...well, I don't remember what I thought of G when we first met but he was dating someone else at the time anyway, so it wasn't important. K struck me as interesting and funny...and that was flat wrong. So when I don't get too excited the first time I meet someone, I don't feel like it means anything which is why I made plans to go on a date with this guy last night.
I should have called off the date as soon as we made our plans. We met for dinner at 8, in Bellevue, at a restaurant called 'What the Pho". Now pho today is what teriyaki must've been ten years ago - a $5 dinner with chopsticks and a paper napkin. This pho place was no exception and there was cafeteria lighting (and tables and chairs) and a tv on in the corner. The guy arrived and we ordered our pho and tried to have a conversation, but I was a little too bugged with the situation to invest a lot in it. Pho?? On a date? When you're not in high school? I made it through dinner and when the check arrived I reached for my wallet. Now this is something I do on a first date. I reach for my wallet and wait for the guy to say "no, I've got this one" and then I offer to split it and he says no and I insist and he insists and I say something cute about getting the check the next time. It's just how it's done. So the bill comes and I reach for my wallet and the guy takes my money! He didn't even offer to pay for my $5 bowl of noodles.
In the meantime, here's how our conversation went:
I told him an interesting story and he said: "so that's just a long way of saying that you don't like sprouts."
I talked about my OB class and how I was having vivid dreams about attending births and he said: "it sounds like you're really insecure about how well you understand the material."
I asked if he'd heard that Richard Pryor died and he said: "no. But blah-de-blah won the Heisman trophy."
Next we went over to Lincoln Center which was the reason he picked the pho restaurant in the first place. LC is this big empty box next to Bellevue Square with a few restaurants, a bar, a container store and a movie theater. He was interested in checking it out - "it's just opening this weekend. It's going to be packed" - and so we drove there and parked in the garage. We were parked nearer to the stairs than the elevater - him: "you don't mind taking the stairs, right?" - so I lugged my butt, in my high heels, up five flights of stairs. When we finally got to the bar/pool hall he wanted to go to there was a big sign outside announcing "private party". Thank god. I'd really had it with him by this time and was prepared to have exactly one drink and then get out as fast as I could, which would be a lot faster if there wasn't a game of pool to finish. So then we headed to another restaurant/bar, taking the stairs - in my high heels - down three flights of stairs to discover that all of the doors from the stairwell were locked. So we wandered up and down and then finally made it onto the street and had to loop back around to get into a restaurant.
I had my one drink - in a bar with a tv on the wall - and left for home.
posted by Imle at 7:24 PM
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