Many of my friends are single and/or a good deal younger than me, so even though I've been married for 15 years, the topic of dating still comes up much more frequently than I would expect at this stage of my life. I've read a few blog posts lately about bad dates, and it got me thinking about my own. There were several less than stellar dates, but if I had to pick just one as the worst of them all, I'd pick the one where I was a blind date to a prom. The only reason I agreed to it is because my older brother Craig was in on it, so I thought, how bad could it be? He was always a good big brother.
I was 17, nearly at the end of my high school career. My big brother Craig was away at BYU. One of his female college friends lived not too far south of us, we in Ontario Canada, and she and her family in upstate New York. Between the two of them, they had the brilliant idea that I should be set up with this girl's younger brother, as he did not yet have a date for his prom. That should have been my first sign. Out of an entire high school and surrounding city, there is not one girl who you could convince to accompany you to your prom? Anyway, I agreed, as my high school was a super strict private school that did not do proms. They did have a Cadet Ball every year (doesn't that sound like a hoot?) but alas, I never went.
The plan was, I would be driven down to this boy's house, and abandoned there until the next morning. Then my Mom would come pick me up. We'll call the boy "Guy". I had never met him until I showed up at his house. We met, it was awkward, and my parents left me there. We went inside, and I shut myself in the bathroom to get ready for the evening. Once ready, he pinned a corsage on me, and... no he attempted to pin it on, probably 4-5 times, and then his mom just did it, probably fearing the lawsuit or at least ER visit that would ensue if her son continued on.
Off we went to dinner. It was a nice restaurant, but one better suited, I think, to established couples interested in romance more than high school kids who just met 2 hours ago. Anyway, the food is normally what I remember most after any event anyhow, so I attacked reading the menu with great enthusiasm. We had had some small talk on the way over, and it was already painfully clear to me that this was at best, a mismatch. He asked me, probably 5 times what I thought I was going to order. Heaven help him if he tries to order for me, I thought. The waitress's arrival was so welcome when she came to ask what we wanted. It went a little like this:
Her: What will you have?
Me: Chicken cordon-bleu.
H: Would you like a baked potato or mashed potatoes?
M: Baked, please.
H: Steamed vegetables or salad?
M: Salad.
H: What kind of dressing?
M: What are the choices?
H: Italian, Ranch, Raspberry Vinaigrette, Blue cheese, Lime, or Poppyseed.
Me: Raspberry Vinaigrette.
She then moved on to Guy.
H: And what about you?
G: I'll have the Chicken cordon-bleu.
H: And, a baked potato or mashed?
G: Baked.
H: Steamed vegetables or salad?
G: Salad.
H: What kind of dressing would you like with that?
G: Can you tell me the choices again?
H: Italian, Ranch, Raspberry Vinaigrette, Blue cheese, Lime or Poppyseed.
G: Raspberry Vinaigrette.
Yes. That is the identical meal that I ordered (did I mention the menu was like 6 pages long?) and he made the poor waitress go through all the salad dressings again. I resisted a grimace and huge eye roll. We had some stilted, boring yet awkward conversation, during which I kept thinking, I'm here until tomorrow morning. TOMORROW MORNING. Mercifully, the food arrived. It was then that both Guy and I noticed he did not have a knife at his place setting. He tried to be all cool attempting to slice through his chicken with his fork. It very nearly took post mortem flight from his plate several times. I mentioned more than once that he should ask for a knife and he kept saying it was fine. The waitress finally returned to ask how everything was, and if we needed anything. He says, "No, thanks." My eyes may have bugged out just a little bit, and I looked at the waitress, then back at Guy. What is wrong with this boy, I wondered? And finally when it was clear he was just going to continue on, attacking his meal with only a fork, I looked at the waitress and with a thumb gesture toward him, blurted out in total exasperation, "He needs a KNIFE!"
He drank when I drank. Took a bite of food when I did. It was weird.
Then we were on to the prom. We had to drive through his town to get there. Between the restaurant and the edge of town, he said "Now when we get to town, don't blink, or you'll miss it.", easily TEN times. No exaggeration. I was like, ok, got it. Not blinking. Will not blink. Will avoid blinking at all costs.
I did not blink. I did not miss it.
We arrived at the high school. Parked the car. Walked into the lamely decorated smells-like-teen-spirit gym, met a few people I knew I'd never see again. Danced two slow dances, a couple of fast, and then we left. He just kept looking at me and not saying much. I kept hoping this was not going to turn into some future Dateline Unsolved Mystery type story.
His all too eager family greeted us and wanted us to watch a movie. I was scared that if I did, Guy would consider this an invitation to hold my hand or worse. I said something about being tired and went to get ready for bed. I fell asleep coming up with ways to exact revenge upon my brother.
In the morning, I took the longest I have ever taken to bathe and get ready for the day. Breakfast with the Guy's family. Many many questions were asked, and just as everyone was trying to get me to commit to future plans and outings, glory be, my ride arrived. Guy hugged me good bye, and held on just that little bit too long.
I later regaled my family with my weird little story, and to this day, any missing bit of cutlery at the table results in someone exclaiming "He needs a KNIFE!"
I am so glad I no longer date. I hope Guy is very happy somewhere with his food ordering twin, not blinking, and eating without adequate silverware.
