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So I had my first bad date a couple of weeks ago. I told ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
adamjury, and he suggested I post it here for the audience's amusement. In retrospect, it was very funny.
So I meet the guy, and he asks if I'd be interested in going to this really swanky restaurant. I say, "Sure," thinking that if he offered, it probably means he can afford it. I could swing something for me if pressed, but I'd have settled for a dutch coffee date and been happy. Still, I'm not one to quibble if someone offers me a nice dinner. We take my car as he doesn't feel like driving his and it's a couple of miles away, down by Lake Union. So on the way there, he pulls out a gift card for the restaurant. I'm thinking, "okay, so he's not rich, but we could eat cheap and have fun doing it, and one of the meals is paid for.... bonus..." He mentions that he works at a storage place, and that they often send out stuff like this as promotional items. He's got a stack of them, but these (he has two) are about to expire and he'd like to use them while he can.
We arrive, and as we go in, he explains that you usually can't use two cards at the same table, so he slides us into a little table at the bar to avoid the issue and plans to just order and then spring it on the waiter at the end. He directs me to the most expensive thing on the menu that the GC will cover, noting that "you don't get change" and orders the same thing himself. He also tells me that he hopes the service is bad, so he doesn't have to tip. Meanwhile, he describes his novels in progress (he's written a whole first page of three of them, but they're all perfect) and says that he's not a cheapskate, but he can never pass up anything free. He is dismayed when I don't ask for a doggie bag for the few scraps left on my plate. At the end, he drops change on the table (which I help out with, but can't do much since I didn't bring cash with me) and we end up leaving. He invited me to his place for some wine and leftovers from the last art gallery reception he went to, but I declined and dropped him at the corner.
Oh, and one of the novels? A murder mystery, written almost entirely in puns. Which he told, on and off, all night. Or at least, it's planned to be written entirely in puns. The first page is, anyway. And it's "perfect."
*shudder*
:)
adamjury, and he suggested I post it here for the audience's amusement. In retrospect, it was very funny.So I meet the guy, and he asks if I'd be interested in going to this really swanky restaurant. I say, "Sure," thinking that if he offered, it probably means he can afford it. I could swing something for me if pressed, but I'd have settled for a dutch coffee date and been happy. Still, I'm not one to quibble if someone offers me a nice dinner. We take my car as he doesn't feel like driving his and it's a couple of miles away, down by Lake Union. So on the way there, he pulls out a gift card for the restaurant. I'm thinking, "okay, so he's not rich, but we could eat cheap and have fun doing it, and one of the meals is paid for.... bonus..." He mentions that he works at a storage place, and that they often send out stuff like this as promotional items. He's got a stack of them, but these (he has two) are about to expire and he'd like to use them while he can.
We arrive, and as we go in, he explains that you usually can't use two cards at the same table, so he slides us into a little table at the bar to avoid the issue and plans to just order and then spring it on the waiter at the end. He directs me to the most expensive thing on the menu that the GC will cover, noting that "you don't get change" and orders the same thing himself. He also tells me that he hopes the service is bad, so he doesn't have to tip. Meanwhile, he describes his novels in progress (he's written a whole first page of three of them, but they're all perfect) and says that he's not a cheapskate, but he can never pass up anything free. He is dismayed when I don't ask for a doggie bag for the few scraps left on my plate. At the end, he drops change on the table (which I help out with, but can't do much since I didn't bring cash with me) and we end up leaving. He invited me to his place for some wine and leftovers from the last art gallery reception he went to, but I declined and dropped him at the corner.
Oh, and one of the novels? A murder mystery, written almost entirely in puns. Which he told, on and off, all night. Or at least, it's planned to be written entirely in puns. The first page is, anyway. And it's "perfect."
*shudder*
:)
