The Chef: Part 2
If you haven’t already, catch up on Part 1.
Date day. The plan was for us to go out to dinner, and then head to his place for music and dessert. By his place, I mean his bar/restaurant. Shame on you for thinking I’m that easy. Since we were meeting at his restaurant, and I have no idea where anything is in Richmond, the morning of I did a dry run. Just to be sure I could find it and there wouldn’t be any panic that night. Yeah, I’m a planner through and through.
Before the date, I had one (um, maybe two) pomegranate martinis at a work event, which did nothing to calm my nerves. I wasn’t quite sure what the nerves were all about, but they were there to stay.
I met him at his restaurant. Remembering my awkward hug with the Police Officer on the blind date, I went in for a handshake with Chef instead. At which point, he went in for a hug. Can someone please tell me what the first date protocols are? Somehow I keep messing them up.
We walked over to a restaurant where we ate a great dinner. Initially, I held back on ordering a drink, worried about becoming the drunk girl on a date (entirely possible after the earlier pomegranate martinis). Dinner was fun, during which he revealed to me his shopping theory.
On our phone conversation two nights before, he had asked me if I had any other dates lined up after his. Ever honest, I admitted that yes, I would. I mean, it’s the Year of Yes, after all. On the date, he explained that he thinks I’m shopping and not really dating. Like, I want to buy a tomato, so instead of going to a store and picking out a good tomato and buying it, I’m heading to several stores, where I encounter plenty of good tomatoes, but I never settle down and purchase any of them. And in the meantime, I’m hurting the feelings of lots of tomatoes. I’m just shopping. This is different than Chef’s style, where if he meets a girl he’s into, he just dates her. He’s a one project at a time kinda guy. I literally refuse to believe it. I don’t believe that if Megan Fox (or someone he found pretty damn hot) walked into the bar and had a great personality and showed interest, he would be like, “Thanks, Meg. But no thanks. I have that Catherine to go out with. Maybe next time.” BS. But this shopping theory is something I’m going to think about.
After dinner, we went to his restaurant to listen to some music. We sat in his favorite booth – he had previously admitted it is his fantasy to sit in this booth with a girl on a date (apparently he hadn’t done it before). Actually, initially the booth was taken, so we sat at another table. When I saw it open up, I asked him if he wanted to move, and said some variation of “I want to make your fantasy come true.” And then, in my head, I ended that statement with “That’s what she said” and felt like a total ho. Oh well.
At the bar/restaurant, I learned that he is a conservative (GASP! Are there any liberals out there for me?), who doesn’t like Anderson Cooper (GASP #2! Who doesn’t like Anderson Cooper? Impossible. There’s something wrong with Chef.). However, he uses words like viscous in normal conversation, so I like that he’s actually smart. I also learn that he has a little habit where he just, um, stops calling girls when he’s not longer into them. I can’t wait for that. I’m about as confrontational as possible, so that doesn’t make sense to me. Just tell them you aren’t into them! Typical guy behavior. He says he won’t do it to me (sure, I’ll believe it when I see it). Mark my words – this doesn’t bode well for the future.
We ate amazing peach cobbler that he made earlier (the key to my heart is clearly through my stomach), and hung out way past my bedtime, especially for a school night (um, week night. I keep forgetting I’m not in high school anymore, which was the last time I dated). He walked me to my car. We had spoken on the phone (during the marathon phone call) about kissing, and I told him how much I hate when guys wait till the very end of the date to kiss the girl. It’s just too much pressure, too expected. I’d rather a guy just kiss me right when he wants to, right when the moment is right. However, he saved it for the end of the evening, presumably because it would be odd to kiss me at his place of business. As he walked me to my car, he made mention of the earlier conversation, sort of, indicating he was sorry for messing that up, and then he kissed me. A really good kiss, actually, so I can forgive the end of the evening ordinariness of it. It occurred to me I must have done something right this time, because two recent first dates didn’t end in kisses. Maybe my dating (ie: shopping) skills are improving?
The kiss left me wanting a little more, which is good. I headed home. Reflecting on it all, he seems pretty normal and I have to admit that I had a pretty amazing time. And since you can’t see me writing this, I know that statement is tempting the dating gods, so I’m knocking on wood, doing a ritual dating rain dance and crossing all my fingers and toes, because just when you say a guy is normal, you are just asking for some crazy shit to go down. He did mention that his trackball on his blackberry has been broken, for quite a while. He can’t move it upward and has learned all this tricks to avoid going to get it fixed. Warning sign that he’s undependable? He is a chef, and a skinny chef at that. I was always told you cannot trust a skinny chef. Oh, and don’t people in the restaurant industry have a penchant for lines of white powder? There could be any assortment of things wrong with him.
Before we ended the first date, he asked if we could hang out again. I was agreeable. It seemed to be a relief to him that I wanted to see him again, but it was probably more of a relief to me that I didn’t have to worry if he wasn’t going to call and ask me out again (as is his track record, apparently).
Oh, and one other thing. On the date, my sister texted me and asked how the date was going. Of course, I asked him what he thought. He didn’t answer, so I told her I gave it an 8 (out of 10). He asked me why it wasn’t a 10, and I told him that’s obvious, because nothing is a 10. Nothing is perfect. And that he should feel lucky this date was actually not a 10, because if it were, we’d be picking up my wedding dress from my ex’s house and heading to Vegas. I know, classic crazy Catherine. I’m surprised he wants to see me again after that kinda humor. The next day, he posted on Facebook “It was a 9.5. Can’t be perfect I guess.” Nothing better than a cryptic Facebook shout out the day after a date.