Bad Date Story

This was the worst date that I can remember. I met him at a mixer, we talked, got along, he asked me out to dinner, I said OK and gave him my number.

The first red flag traveled up the pole when he said he would drive over the bridge and meet me, so pick a place and asked, Oakland has jazz right? He said he didn't know Oakland at all. I was thrown off guard; one, I thought we were going to San Francisco and two, why couldn't he go online, find some interesting restaurants and ask me about them?

I wanted to believe that his intentions were aimed in the right direction; he wanted to save me the drive and offer some kind of comfort level, by having me choose the place(s). Or, was it that he wanted me to make the whole plan and he would just show up? I would have appreciated being included in the change of plans; and some input and effort from him; especially since when he had asked me out, it was for dinner in North Beach.

But, I bravely did not cancel right then and there. I was honest and said I felt uncomfortable, I didn't know I was planning this, I'd call him later after I had thought about it. He said OK.

I called the next night and said I would take BART into the city so he would be able to pick his favorite place in North Beach, which was what he originally asked me out for, and what I had agreed to. Brilliant, I thought! He said OK, but he didn't know where the BART stations were, which I thought was odd, since he grew up there and they're all on Market, lined up neatly. So I told him I'd come into the Montgomery and Market station; I had to tell him it was on Market, he asked if it was near Embarcadero, and I lamely said yes, one down.

I didn't hear from him after that, as to what restaurant he had picked or any type of confirmation. So I wore standard fare, nice jeans, pretty top, coat and boots. As we had arranged, I called him when I got on the train, he was on his way. A few minutes after I arrived, I called again to let him know I'd arrived.

Where are you? He asked.

At the corner of Montgomery, Market & Post.

I don't see you, he said.

Where are you? I asked.

On Market.

Market and what?

I'm on Market.

What cross street?

Embarcadero.

But I'm at Montgomery and Market, like I told you I'd be.

I'm there, I don't see you, where are you?

You're stressing me out; I'm at Montgomery and Market. What direction are you coming from?

I'm here- I don't see you-you're not there-I'm just about there-here I am-there you are-right on time.

My body got in the car but in my mind I was running down the stairs and back onto the train. I knew I had made a mistake. Boom! There we were. He immediately started a long commentary of how hard it is to drive on Market with all the people and how annoyed he was that he couldn't turn around to get back to Embarcadero. It wasn't charming first date chatter, fun banter, flirty anything; I felt like I was driving with my dad. He wanted to get back to Embarcadero because that's how he knew how to get to North Beach. We could have turned right and winded through, I didn't understand what he was doing. I said I could have gotten off on Embarcadero if you had told me that was your touch point. And he said, no, you had your heart set on Montgomery. (Huh?) I said, Embarcadero is the stop before Montgomery, they're all lined up. He said he didn't know the downtown area. I said, I thought you knew San Francisco like the back of your hand (what he had said) and he said not downtown, but North Beach and the Marina. I said we're right down the street from North Beach. We are, really? He asked.

I've been on dates. I've been on first dates and dates with someone I've been seeing a while. I've been on not great dates; I've been with men who are nervous. I've been nervous. I I can honestly say this was the first time I'd been on a first date where there was no attempt to flirt, seduce, impress, discover, empathize, or connect. There was no sense of romance, possibility, or even platonic friendship. It was blah. I considered that maybe he had wanted to get out of it too but thought it was impolite to cancel, but acceptable to not put his best foot forward, I don't know. I wished again I had cancelled.

We finally got to Embarcadero and into North Beach; I love it there. There are so many Italian restaurants, bars, and a section of strip joints, coffee places, history, and lots of people. There are also pay parking garages and lots every couple of blocks. My date drove past at least four of them, said he didn't see any; and parked about six blocks away where there was obviously a lot of available street parking. It was dark and quiet; I was officially pissed off. We started walking up the 6 block incline; I was in four inch heels. I said this is pretty far from North Beach; he laughed and said, it's only about six blocks; you said you liked to hike and exercise.

I have stomped around this city plenty of times, I love walking around San Francisco; but not in four inch heels, uphill, on Saturday night. Although a little winded, I trudged on. I was actually trying to prove to myself and to my well meaning friends and family that I wasn't overly picky and hard to please. I was also, admittedly, morbidly curious to see what would happen next. And I really wanted a drink.

The place he chose, was all ready packed with about twenty people waiting. Nestled between two strip clubs, below sidewalk level, with no waiting area or bar, people were waiting at the counter and outside. He couldn't believe it was so busy, said the last time he was there, there was no one. I said, well, it's Saturday night. And he said I didn't know it would be so crowded, it wasn't when I was here before on a Saturday, it was empty. I asked what time he had been there and he said it was before six, he had beaten the rush.

Neither one of us wanted to stand there and wait. He was tremendously disappointed because the food apparently is excellent; he had starved himself all day for it. When I got home I looked it up on Yelp, and most of the reviews say the pizza and food is to die for, but that it is always crowded, always a line, wait around 30-45 minutes if not an hour.

Eating here was the extent of his plan and there was no back up. He said, let's just walk around and find a place. We walked; he asked me if I had eaten at several places, some I had, some I hadn't. He didn't even pause at the less casual ones, which seemed more date appropriate and settled on a diner type that was filled with families with kids and groups of friends. None of this matched the guy who had proudly told me how well he knew North Beach and how well our date would be planned. By this time, I was just completely deflated. It all felt like a chore, I felt insulted. But because he really seemed impervious to any of it being less than a great date, it seemed ridiculous for me to point it out to him. I wasn't happy, but I took a deep breath and tried to make the best of it.

The waiter dropped off bread and we didn't see him again for a long time. My date said a couple of times; I wonder why no one is waiting on us. I really didn't want to take charge, I wanted him to act, but after twenty minutes, I couldn't contain myself. I caught the waiter's eye, made the universal sign of 'we need drinks and food', he rushed over, very apologetic, took our orders, got our drinks, got our food, and was reasonably attentive after that. My date acted like nothing was out of the ordinary.

I tried to draw him out and we talked; he was divorced, no kids, lived in the bay area his whole life, worked at the same company for 20 years, he had a difficult relationship with his dad. I was able to see the human in him, albeit one who had no social skills. But he was someone who had felt pain as a child and had difficult relationships, universal human experiences. He didn't ask anything about me, there wasn't much laughter. He told me he goes to a lot of mixers. He talked a lot about his insomnia. He made a racist comment. The tables were very close together; we were next to a group of friends, whom I talked and laughed with for a few minutes, they even mentioned the best Irish pub a few blocks away and invited us; he sat there very awkwardly, not joining in. I declined; I was exhausted and looking forward to the second I could take my boots off.

We ate, he had one beer, I had two glasses of wine, and he did pay. When the meal was over, we walked downhill to the car. Not knowing that walking downhill in heels is even more uncomfortable than uphill, he said the walk to the car would be much easier for me since it was downhill and kept saying how cold he was. I used that frosty fog drenched air to energize me down to the car and to be pleasant inside because it was almost over. When he dropped me at the train, he said the first and only thing that you normally say and hear on a date, call me when you get home. When I got home, boots off, I texted him, said thank you and sleep tight, he wrote back and said thank you too. I took it to mean thank you for being a good sport.

Later that week, he texted me twice, I wrote back the first time, but not the second. My feet and back hurt for a week.