The Worst Date

The second I opened the door and saw him standing there I knew immediately that I wanted out. This was going to be our third date; and it was already three too many. How did I get myself into this? But I knew...

There comes a time when you hit 30 (and are still single) that you start to think things like: maybe I am too picky. But these are dangerous thoughts -- because they sway you from your biological imperative. Instinctively you know on a base level who you would like to procreate with, and who you wouldn't. It's really beyond my control actually -- it's DNA.

But one too many Dr. Phils in my brain and there I am; my own common denominator -- now standing across from someone my DNA isn't very attracted to. All I could focus on were his physical imperfections. I didn't mean to. It just...well, his shoulders weren't strong -- they slouched. And his double chin hung a bit too low. And the hair sticking out the back of his t-shirt -- all thick and black and obviously coming from his shoulders -- well, it kinda made my throat burn from the acid that was refluxing to the back of it.

I looked. Dismayed. But, I had made a commitment. It was one evening. It wasn't going to kill me. And besides, I was single -- maybe a bit too picky. Maybe I could be charmed if the conditions improved and I stopped pre-judging? Three times lucky, right?

We walked in silence to the restaurant. I had nothing to say. My DNA was actively protesting and thoughts seemed to disappear from my head. He didn't seem to mind. Mr. Bland was very content with this less-than-ideal situation. As we walked I wished I had done the right thing. I wished after our less-than-ideal first date, that I thanked him for a nice time and told him 'that I didn't think of him that way' and that 'we should go our separate ways'. But I was still single. I was starting to think there was something wrong with me. So I gave him a chance. That's what all the "experts" say to do, right? Toss aside your misconceptions and see what else is out there? How many stories did I hear about so-and-so who wasn't attracted to their husband when they first met and now they are totally in love? So maybe -- acid reflux aside; maybe I was being too picky. Maybe my DNA was just a bit of a snob.

We sat in the restaurant. He ordered an expensive steak and lots of drinks. I ordered water with lemon and a tomato salad. My stomach was a bit off. We sat there having bland conversation and I was trying my best to not think of it as a date. It's just two lonely people keeping each other company over a meal, I thought. It helped a bit. I put on my best polite face while we sat there in blandness and boredom. But my mind drifted. In that moment I would have given anything to be on a double-date with Sue.

Sue was my partner in crime my first year in Japan. Vivacious, spirited and insanely fun -- she saved me from the doldrums of my mountain retreat that first year. Monday to Friday we designed English curriculums in our village towns -- but come Friday; the world (or southern Japan) was our playground. I can never thank her enough for how much she gave me that year -- I just hope on some spiritual level she knows. Many years later when I wrote my first feature film I named the character that saves the heroine from destruction, Sue. It wasn't until this very moment that I made the connection.

Sue was always my inside perspective into Japan. She had been fascinated with the culture for many years and had lived there a year prior to my getting there. She would often fill me in on all that she had learned and all that I needed to know. I remember one day while we were lying on a white sand beach two hours south-east of my village she told me about a peculiar thing that the young Japanese women were doing. Since, being assertive, was not allowed (culturally) they were starting to learn the fine art of passive aggression. And this, it seemed, had begun to spill into the dating world. Sue learned that Japanese women had devised an escape plan for bad dates. It went something like this (I will use the double date model): one woman says she is going to use the washroom and excuses herself. She leaves her cigarettes and her lighter on the table. A minute later she calls her friend that is still at the table. The friend excuses herself to take the call -- and they leave. Because they have left non-essential items at the table, the men are unaware for a good five minutes or so that they have been ditched. This gives the women enough time to race to somewhere else and actually enjoy their night.

I laughed when I heard this. Having never been on a date that bad (I was only 22!) I thought it was hilarious; and a little mean -- but more funny.

About 10 months later Sue begged me to set her up on a double date. I had been dating a man I met in another city and had been spending weekends travelling around with him. We (Sue and I) needed a weekend together. I told her I would see what I could do. I asked my boyfriend if he had any friends that would like to go on a double date with Sue. He got excited. Sue was (and still is) very beautiful.

The problem was -- between the initial set-up and a few weeks later (when the date actually happened) my relationship had soured in the worst way. My previously fun boyfriend that I met on a dance floor (and who I thought was the coolest guy in Japan) -- had morphed into a Japanese business man. He cut his hair; started wearing suits -- and basically, we didn't really have anything in common anymore. If this weekend didn't go well, it was most likely going to be the end for us. But it could be a new beginning for Sue -- so we went.

Half-way through the date it became obvious how horrible the night was going. We had started off at a club -- and Sue's date must have used wax to tame his eyebrows. Anyhow -- inside the club were black lights. While the rest of us had to contend with lint glowing on our shirts -- her date (unbeknownst to him) was glowing like a glow-in-the-dark Dracula. His eyebrows illuminated half the dance floor -- and well, it was a big deal breaker for Sue. Not to mention my boyfriend was being a real ass to me all night -- and Sue had picked up on it. She was actually more livid than I was about it. I had resigned myself to a worst-case scenario. I accepted it; because it would be a verifiable reason to end the relationship. But Sue -- Sue is a little more passionate than I am. She didn't drive 4 hours through a mountain range to have me treated like crap, and have her dance floor more-illuminated-than-needs-be by some guy's eyebrow wax.

So she was pissed. And the dinner wasn't going well. My boyfriend was grunting and being very belligerent towards me. Her date was looking at her like a piece of meat. It was a really horrible situation because we realized, at the dinner, that we were just sitting there to make them look good. Two hot, young, western girls. We were status symbols for these young Japanese businessmen. And, I guess, Sue believed that enough was enough; and they didn't deserve us. So she gave me a look and excused herself to go to the bathroom. The look she gave me was, "you better leave this table when I call you". I looked on the table: she left her cigarettes and lighter. I took a deep breath. Was she really doing what I think she was going to do? Did she actually have the balls to do it? I looked at my cell phone and thought: ok, if she calls it -- we're outta here.

And then my phone rang, I picked it up "moshi moshi", I said. I looked at the guys -- gestured that I couldn't hear amidst the noise of the restaurant and excused myself from the table. Sue was outside when I got there. We linked arms and ran squealing at the top of our lungs in pure exhilaration. Our four-inch platform shoes and mini skirts didn't slow us down.

But Sue was not at this table. It was 8 years later. I sat and watched as Mr. Bland, and his shoulder hair, ate his expensive steak. I was only there to keep him company so he wouldn't have to sit alone. He was only there because I didn't have the balls to tell him (and his shoulder hair) that I wasn't interested in sitting across from him so he didn't have to eat alone. It was a really long hour. When the bill came he picked it up -- looked at it, and stared at me. Is he serious? He just spent 80 or so dollars and he wants my 7? Well, if this was the deal breaker I needed to get out of this situation; so be it. I crossed my arms, sat up straight and stared back. "You aren't asking me for money, are you?" I said. Brazen. I didn't care. He was an idiot as far as I was concerned. Screw Dr. Phil.

He looked shocked. So me and my DNA stood up and walked out without saying goodbye. Natural selection is important. It weeds out the bad seeds -- and gives the rest of us a better chance of survival.