There you are- sitting in a restaurant, stirring the ice cubes around in the bottom of your glass with your straw. You got water because you didn’t want anything too expensive. Not even a Coke.
The overbearing waitress comes over one last time to make sure there isn’t “anyyyything else” she can get for you tonight. She pushes the bill in front of the kid sitting across from you and he says, “I got this,” and pulls out his wallet.
And that’s it. He then drives you back to your house or your car and awkwardly plants a kiss on your lips as he wishes you a good night.
Okay, maybe this isn’t you. Maybe it’s just me who feels this way. I hate dates. Hate them. You may very well think I am disobeying the ideals of a teenage girl, but I can’t grasp the ideals of this misconstrued concept.
To begin with, I personally feel the setting of a typical date is set up to fail. Especially if you are terrible at conversation, like myself, with someone you hardly know.
You start in the car, beginning with topics that are minorly relatable- like the movie you just watched in English last week or how you just love the food at the restaurant you are going to. Upon arriving at said restaurant, you comment on how pleasant or how poor the weather is as you walk inside.
As you sit down on opposite sides of the booth, you are hit by a nostalgic moment having to do with a similar restaurant. You chuckle as you share your story and look around for something else that may trigger a decent conversation. The waitress comes over to take your orders and you are struck by two problems:
- What to eat (You know he’s going to pay, so you don’t want to get something too expensive. But you don’t want to cheap out on a salad either since it will either end up in your teeth or you’ll be done eating by the time he’s taken his second bite of his steak.)
- The knowledge that you are stuck for another half hour.
Luck could strike and the rest of your dinner could be just fabulous, or you’ll be pushing around the mashed potatoes left on your plate as he stares off into the distance.
Then, you are back to the beginning of my rampage. The bill. Sure, society’s standards are that when a fellow takes you out to eat, he pays the check. I, on the other hand, think that I should be able to pay my tab. I work. I buy my own things. I’m quite capable of buying my chicken dinner. It is unnecessary for a guy to feel compelled to buy me dinner.
It’s not just always dinner. It can be sitting through a movie at the theater, or a variety of other things. I’m not stating that every date I have been on has ended up like this, but many have. And if you’re a girl, and you think I’m crazy because going on a date is really the best thing in the world- more power to ya’.
I’m simply saying that I hate doing things, like going on potentially, excruciatingly awkward dates, that lead to forced conversations. If I kind of like you, and don’t really know you, I’d much rather hang out with you at home and get to talk to you freely. And if things get boring, we can just put a movie on.