Tightwads and Tofu

As I expected and hoped against, Mark is not the man for me.

Thursday night’s date went reasonably well, if going “well” means the food was delicious and the ambience of the restaurant was lovely. Mark was right on time, and was well-versed in the restaurant’s best dishes and drinks. There’s a fine line between a man ordering my dinner and ordering me around, but Mark toed the line gracefully. He ordered us egg-poached truffle toast and a sampling of various meats to share for appetizers. As my favorite part of any meal, the appetizers appeared to be an auspicious start to the evening. However, things went downhill from there.

“I’m not that hungry—Are you?” he asks. It’s 9pm on a Thursday. I worked all day and then went straight to a relatively intense yoga class. I am fucking starving.

“Yeah, no, me either. Whatever you think.” Mark suggests that we share a salad and an entree. Fine. I’ll just have to stop by Hot & Crusty on my way home. This is strike one against Mark. Strike two came around dessert. Mark decides he’ll just have a cappuccino, but welcomes me to take a look at the dessert menu. Thank you for this allowance, Mark. I scan the menu and announce to Mark that I’ll be ordering the tiramisu. “Have you ever tried panna cotta?” offers Mark. I hadn’t, and Mark took the liberty to flag down our waitress and replace my dessert order with his own. Bad move, my friend. Bad move.

Strike three (though I can barely call this the last strike) arrived awkwardly with the check. This is never an exceptionally comfortable time in the date, but the way a man handles it is a good indicator of what’s to come down the road. As a modern woman and moderate feminist, I believe that going dutch once in a relationship is necessary and appropriate. However, when the guy chooses an expensive restaurant for our SECOND date, I expect him to foot the bill. Mark had no such inclinations. When I politely offered to help (and expected to be turned down), Mark asked what I had on me. Annoyed, I pull $40 out of my wallet. “This is all I have,” I tell Mark. BECAUSE I WASN’T EXPECTING TO PAY, YOU CHEAP BASTARD. “Well,” he chortles, “You can just buy me a drink at the next place.” Right…The next place...

Needless to say, I never bought Mark that drink I owed him. He sealed the never-again deal on our walk home, as I had to practically fight off his physical advances. Perhaps this was my fault for kissing him goodnight on our first date, but that was before I knew him! A valuable lesson learned. Never kiss on the first date?

Another near hit, another big miss. I haven't lost too much sleep over it. Instead, I cooked. I took my dateless weekend and brainstormed the most colorful, innovative stir-fry I've yet to dream up. My girlfriend brought the wine, and I brought the fibrous vegetables. What wasn't in this stir-fry? It started with onions, garlic, zucchini, butternut squash, red peppers, carrots and broccoli. After sauteing these with a bit of olive oil, ground ginger, garlic powder, and cayenne pepper, I added tofu that was pan-fried in soy sauce. To this combo I added fresh shrimp, and covered the whole mix in Soy Vey teriyaki sauce. We ate outside, and shared the stir-fry straight out of the pan with chopsticks. We drank wine from plastic cups. It was exceedingly better than any first (or second) date I've been on in a long time.