When I tried to establish the 'Five rules for a perfect date', the first concept that I wanted to introduce was: ‘Life is not a movie”. I believe that neither young damsels nor our beaus should forget this. Of course, it is always good to plan the date carefully, especially at the beginning, when it is not easy to guess the other person’s likes and dislikes.
The probability of a disaster is always high even if, by a miracle, the admirer guesses the young lady’s tastes. My experience tells me to be very careful just in case there is some hidden agenda there...and there usually is. Yes, I know... I have become a cynic.
Flying low and maintaining the course, something simple and low-risk,is far better than flying high but ending in tragedy.
Maybe it is understandable that a man may want to overstate things when he finds himself in front of a beautiful blonde with tons of class and whose hobby is modeling. Yet…
This story, often repeated, is another episode in the MEN DNR saga:
From the beginning, things appear more artificial than they ought to.
Having borrowed daddy’s top-tier car to pick up the damsel, the GIQ will start his (lobotomy) date. Maybe due to over-excitement, the GIQ will not be able to manage such a powerful car, he will get lost along the way, and the drive will lead to narcolepsy.
OK, he wanted to show off a bit, but let’s give him another chance.
Finally, after an unending drive - the restaurant: attractive, romantic, by the lake, very chic.
Then comes another problem; the restaurant is one of these places that have more Michelin stars than bread on the table; the menu is incomprehensible and they serve minute portions of “nouvelle cuisine”: meat paired with celery sorbet, millefeuille of vegetables and chocolate, pastries covered in multicolored foam…and the chef’s suggestion: caramelized PIGEON.
He is enthusiastic and picks…THE PIGEON!
I now report the conversation I had with the “victim”:
“Seriously? A pigeon! I am vegetarian and I love all living beings, except pigeons; they are vermin, I hate them when they’re alive and I can’t stand them when they’re dead. Even more so if they're cooked! The portions were minuscule and in the end I was crying out for pizza; the dining room was full of over-dressed snobs; I was totally ill-at-ease. Why not a banal pizzeria? A normal restaurant with young diners? A typical “trattoria”?
At the end of the meal, he even asked to speak with the chef to compliment him! I wanted to die! Can you believe it? A pigeon! When he drove me back, he even had the gall to tell me he was looking forward to a second date; I smiled. What I really wanted to tell him was – ‘learn to at least drive a scooter and maybe you can try. And, take me to a place where they serve food that normal people can it!’”
The GIQ has been classed as DNR.