Story 6: Half-Brownie Date

Picture it. Washington, DC, 2002. It is late spring and the waft of cherry blossoms from the tidal basin is only a memory. It is light jacket weather but those eager Dupont Circle regulars are already sporting sandals and shorts, less because of the heat and sun and more to show off the Caribbean vacations from which they have just returned.

It could have been a wonderful day, and being generally optimistic, it could have been a wonderful date too. A young graduate school student meets his date in Dupont Circle for lunch one Saturday. The blind date is the epitome of cuddly (+1), thick (+1) and muscled (+1), sinewy calves (+1), with a nice soft layer of adipose tissue to make him comfortable (+1). The blind date sounds too perfect: long walks on the beach (+1), romantic dinners (+1), PhD (+2), appreciates show tunes (+2) and jazz (+2), has a house in Florida (+1) - and not a timeshare, has a house in Maine (+1) - not a timeshare, has a car (+1) and likes to do the driving (+2), generically handsome (+1), clean (+1) and healthy (+1), has a job (+5), has a pulse (+5)…

My classmate seemed to have done well in matching us up. Everything I have heard has been positive. And, assuming he heard both my positive and negative traits, at least he showed up (+5).

So, we are at a small restaurant in Dupont Circle. He orders, I order, the server taking our orders could be new to the job. I notice both the server having a hard time with the orders and my date giving a hard time to the server. I let it go, assuming it’s just an off-day for both of them. The server apologizes, and my date continues with being mean to him. The server walks away, and my date cannot cease degrading our “help.” My date asks me what I want for dessert (+1), and I begin to hope things are looking up. I ask for the brownie dessert on the menu. The server returns, and he orders one brownie, with two forks, and again is chastising the server and the entire establishment.

Now, I’m 6’3’’, 215 pounds, and as of a couple days ago, I’m 26 years old. And I was just as big in 2002. I don’t look like I’ve skipped a meal, and don’t look like I cannot eat a dessert alone. If my date had not been so mean to the staff the ENTIRE time we sat in the restaurant, I would not have cared that he did not ask to split the dessert, although it would have been more polite. And had he not ordered dessert, I would have offered to split it with him anyway. But he WAS mean to the staff the ENTIRE time, and I was tired of it.

So, I did something that is very unlike me. I answered my mobile phone. Let me explain: I do not usually answer my phone while on a date, or while eating a meal. I also did not have a “vibrate” option on that particular phone, which I had purchased in 1997 before going to college. And most importantly, no one called me, or no one was calling me. My phone was either on silent or turned off.

I quickly reached into my pocket for my cellular phone and brought it up to my ear. I began listening after saying an initial “hello” to no one on the receiving end of my conversation.

“Ruby, are you okay? What’s the matter? (pause) Slow down.” I have never been a good actor, but I deserved an award for my performance.

“You’re at George Washington Hospital? I can be there in 5 minutes. Bye.” I quickly put the phone back in my pocket. I apologize profusely for having answered it. I tell my date that I have to leave. He asks if everything is alright. I answer that I need to get to the hospital for a friend in trouble. He pays the bill rather quickly, and takes the brownie dessert to go. And, I even get him to drive me to GW Hospital. I walk through the entrance and wait for his car to pull away. I exit the hospital and take the escalator down to the Metro, and take the orange line home.

Date’s Positive Traits: +37 Points
Date Being Mean to Restaurant Staff: -50 Points
Date Splitting Dessert without Asking: -1 Point... Ok, make it -2 Points

Date’s Overall Score: -15 Points

Applicable Quote: Necessity is the mother of invention.