After a recent date, I mentioned that a guy had really impressed me, and the parents asked why.
“Well, he planned the date. Really thoroughly. And he led. I was able to just sit back and relax and let him take care of everything.”
The parents exchanged glances. Back in their day, this would have been expected. But since an inordinate quantity of my dates ask me where we’re going, take me to museums that are closed, or even forget what time the date was called for (yes, I’ve been texted by a guy asking when he was supposed to show up), this seemingly nominal showing of competence was a Big Deal.
I frequently promise myself that the next guy who asks me where we’re going when I’m already in his car is going to be taking me to Orchidea or some other super-expensive Boro Park restaurant. But so far I haven’t be able to muster the nastiness to actually do it.
But here’s a fond recollection of some of those earlier disappointments.