In order for a first date to go right, everything has to be right. The two people have to feel a certain connection, of course. But that’s just the beginning. They have to enjoy what they’re doing, enjoy what they’re eating or drinking. Enjoy the mood, the ambience. Enjoy the conversation. That can be a tough one . . . .
Margo was on a first date with a guy and he talked endlessly about himself, without asking a single question about her. It got so bad, she decided to time him just to see how long he would talk uninterrupted.
“When he reached 45 minutes, I finally excused myself, saying I had to be somewhere. He looked shocked and hurt that I didn’t suggest getting together again.”
Marathon talkfest
Alicia also had a problem with conversation on her first date with Chris. There was nothing to talk about, but the date still went on for more than 12 hours. (Now, keep in mind, Alicia was only 15 when this happened, or she might have handled things a little differently.)
The date started on Saturday afternoon. Chris picked her up and they drove to the mall. They had lunch (he had onion soup) and window-shopped. This part was fun. So much fun that Alicia invited Chris back to her house. “I played CDs and asked him questions about the high school track and soccer teams he played on. We sat next to each other on the couch for about three hours, just making fun of each other and laughing about it. We really didn’t have that much to talk about. After I played my whole CD collection, I was getting pretty tired of hanging out with Chris. Our conversation had come around to him telling me a list of everything he was allergic to: grass, beer, milk, cigarettes, etc. He told me that because of his grass allergies, he threw up before and after each of his track meets and soccer games. He spent a lot of time just sitting on the couch and looking at me with a little grin on his face, which was creeping me out.”
It was dinnertime by now and Chris suggested ordering a pizza. Alicia couldn’t take any more of Chris on her own, so she called four girlfriends and invited them over.
“For three hours my friends entertained Chris and I got to take a break from talking to him. I snuck upstairs and complained to my parents that he was still there. Eventually my friends had to leave. I thought that Chris would take the hint, but he didn’t. It was 11:30 p.m. and I was exhausted from listening to him chatter about stupid stuff, and from trying to figure out how to get him to leave. He was annoying me so bad I just wanted to kick him. And his breath reeked of onion soup and pizza. Gross.
“I got a pounding headache and I didn’t even pretend to be having a good time anymore. I started yawning every few minutes and leaning my head back against the couch and saying, `Man, I’m really tired’ and, `Wow! It’s late.'”
Meet the parents
Then, Alicia’s parents got in the act. They started making noise in the kitchen, clanking pots and pans, making it sound like they were straightening up and closing down the house before bed.
“My mom started turning off lights and my dad picked up a broom and started sweeping the kitchen floor in a really loud and obvious way. (Sweeping the floor is not a normal nighttime activity for us, especially not for my dad.)”
Finally, Chris asked Alicia if he should leave. She said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but yeah.” She walked him to the door. The way he kept standing there, shifting his weight, and staring, she knew he wanted a goodnight kiss. She didn’t want to kiss him. But she was just 15 and easily intimidated.
Kiss to end all kisses
“I felt like I had to do it. It was the nastiest kiss ever. Stale onion soup and greasy pizza flavors all slimed together. After a few seconds of torture, I turned my head to the side and put my arms around his shoulders in a tight hug, so he couldn’t kiss me anymore. Then I gave him my best fake smile, told him I’d had a wonderful time, steered him out the door and shut and locked it behind him. It was the longest and most exhausting date I’ve ever had.”
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What was the best-worst, funniest, most embarrassing date you’ve ever had? Send your tale, along with your relationship questions, to Cheryl Lavin, Tales from the Front, Chicago Tribune, 435 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, IL 60611 or e-mail cheryllavin@aol.com. All names are changed. Letters cannot be considered without name, address and day and evening phone numbers. Letters may be used in whole or in part for any purpose and become the property of the column. Read Tales from the Front every Sunday in Arts & Entertainment and Tuesday and Thursday in Tempo.
