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FIRST DATES

First Impressions

Don’t think of him as a Date, Think of him as a Dinner.

LUCILLE BALL

Hopefully our improved talents in the art of attraction will have been put to good use and will have resulted in securing the attentions of an eligible and gorgeous man, one whose sole purpose in life is to ask us out to dinner.

So you’ve finally got a date, but please don’t be tempted to cook, you’ll have plenty of time later to wow him with your culinary expertise if the evening goes well. Go out to a lovely restaurant, relax and find out a little more about each other and see if this is worth pursuing.

A propos of not cooking, do take my advice as I’m talking from bitter experience. Every time I have cooked on a first date it has ended in tears, generally mine. Even if the food was perfect and everything looked fabulous, by the time my date arrived I was frizzy-haired and frazzled from the hours spent in the kitchen and from the cleaning regime required to turn my apartment into something out of Vogue Interiors.

On one occasion when I was asked out, memorable because I really liked this guy and had been trying to get his attention for months, I decided to dazzle him with both my cooking skills and my fabulous 44th-floor apartment overlooking Hong Kong harbour. So I stupidly (with hindsight) invited him to dinner.

I cleaned, shopped and cooked all day, preparing a menu planned with military precision. Parma ham with Chanterelle melon was followed by an inordinately expensive grilled lobster and a mango soufflé finished off the dinner. The whole meal was washed down with several bottles of Veuve Clicquot. I wore my killer little black dress and lit enough candles to illuminate the Vatican. Everything was perfect.

Except … he was Jewish. (Who’s to know?) He didn’t eat Parma ham (pork) and he didn’t eat lobster (shellfish) and hated the perfumed aroma of mangos.

I became increasingly flustered and more than a little resentful that all my hard work had resulted in him nibbling on a breadstick and not much else. Especially not the hostess.

Whilst I’m sure my ill-advised dinner was not solely to blame (I think it was a lot more to do with my evidently increasing displeasure), having eaten the square root of exactly nothing he made his excuses and left. That was the last I heard from him.

Like I said, don’t be tempted to cook. (In a fit of pique I ate everything on the table plus all the after-dinner mints so not only did I feel rejected, I also felt fat. Not a good combination.)

Back to happier things.

It doesn’t matter how many first dates I’ve had or how many restaurants I’ve eaten in, I always get excited about the first time I have dinner with someone new. You never quite know what will happen, there’s always the chance that this could be the one.

The problem is, of course, that first dates don’t always live up to our expectations. I’m sure we all have a Dating Disasters Dossier, filed away in our memory under Not To Be Repeated Under Any Circumstances. Those dates that forced us to question our apparent inability to spot a really bad idea! How in the name of all that is sacred could we possibly have accepted, or worse yet requested, this interminable torture? I have spent far too many first date dinners surreptitiously glancing at my watch, willing the minutes to tick past whilst seated opposite someone with whom I had absolutely nothing in common and, worse, whom I was starting to actively dislike.

It happens.

Far too bloody often, actually.

You know who you are, guys, those of you from my bleak and beleaguered past that caused me to coin the idiom ‘First Date Disorder’. If I looked bored it’s because I was. There, now you know.

The tragic thing was that on these ghastly, coma-inducing, sub-standard debacles I invariably ended up paying the bill, purely to prevent any possibility of having to kiss him through some kind of misplaced guilt. Subsequently, I ended up bored to tears, questioning my judgement and, to add insult to injury, considerably poorer.

Oh, the diabolical ignominy!

So, given that all of us must have truly terrible tales of first date disasters why do we repeatedly put ourselves through the lottery-style risk they entail?

That’s easy, we just keep going back for more (akin to a boxer who won’t stay down), because every now and then we stumble unsuspectingly into first date nirvana, a rare and magical encounter whereby the simple act of having dinner with somebody affords us such exquisite pleasure it erases all memories of the bad dates that have gone before. (I have on occasion experienced this phenomenon and when it’s that good, it’s the best.)

The problem with these fairytale dates is that I am unable to eat a single bite during dinner. However, to conceal this angst I have perfected the art of pushing my food round the plate in such as way as to appear to have eaten quite a lot. Later on at home, after an enchanting evening which has me fantasising about our next date – the sexy way he holds his glass and how much I love his voice – I suddenly find that I am starving and heading for the kitchen to make a bacon sandwich!

I’ve had a wonderful evening, but this wasn’t it.

GROUCHO MARX

What people order on a first date can be a bit of a revelation in terms of their personality and their expectations of the evening ahead. Here are some examples from real dates – this stuff really happened to me. I share it with you so that you can spot the bad bets immediately and not bother with a second date! The female examples, however, I gleaned from my male buddies.

Traits to watch out for when on a first date with a man:

As you sit down he requests a glass of tap water, skips the starter and orders the cheapest main course on the menu, plus a glass of house wine that he nurses all night. He then proceeds to divvy up the bill, ensuring that you pay for the extra coffee you ordered and refusing to pay the service charge.

He’s cheap and, worst of all, the man has no style. This is date hell. Dump him.

The first thing he does is order champagne followed by two dozen oysters, he then suggests you skip the main course and have another bottle of fizz instead. He orders a vast dessert meant for two which he spoon-feeds you in a rather suggestive fashion.

This guy wants to get dinner over with as quickly as possible and ply you with enough aphrodisiacs and champagne to guarantee that you’ll be a bit pissed, ergo, horny. The idea is to get you into his bed in record time. On the plus side he has a modicum of style and, I’d wager, lots of charm, but beware of sleeping with anyone on a first date, no matter how many oysters they try to force down you.

This man does not drink alcohol, ever. He is macro-biotic in the extreme and polishes his cutlery on his napkin, just in case it’s contaminated. He talks endlessly about the environment and wears plastic shoes. He cycles everywhere, refusing to drive or take any form of public transport, thus doing his bit for ‘the cause’. He’s 35 years old and still lives with his mother.

Yawn. I live by the adage: everything in moderation, including moderation. Next!

He decides to skip the food part of dinner entirely and opts for getting roaring drunk. He veers between morose and euphoric, but is appealing in a ‘save me, I think I’m drowning’ kind of way. What you mistook for bonhomie when you first met is actually desperation. Generous to a fault, he has the Dudley Moore character Arthur down to a tee. ‘Would you like another fish?’

He’s an alcoholic. No, you can’t save him, don’t even try.

He orders a beer, some wine, an adventurous starter, an indulgent main course and some pudding to share with you. Then perhaps he’ll order some more wine, coffee and a couple of brandies. He’s funny, charming and seems to really listen to what you have to say. Just as the coffee arrives he reaches across the table for your hand and tells you how beautiful you look tonight.

He’s lovely, interested and interesting. He’s in no hurry to bolt down dinner in a bid to seduce you tonight, he’s here to have a good time. You actually want this one to make a pass at you! (Yes, this really can happen, great dates do exist, you just gotta keep looking.)

I asked my date what she wanted to drink.

She said, ‘Oh, I guess I’ll have champagne.’

I said ‘Guess again.’

ANON

Traits to watch out for in a woman on a first date.

(Ladies, do you recognise yourselves?)

After several glasses of champagne, this little madam orders the most expensive dish on the menu before necking as much wine as she can drink and then finishing off with a pudding meant for two. She scoffs the lot, as well as all the after-dinner chocolates. Her only topic of conversation is herself and her pathological desire to acquire, by fair means or foul, anything from Gucci.

A greedy guts with definite gold-digging tendencies. Suggest you go Dutch and then run away.

She requests still, ambient, spring water and a starter of vegetable consommé followed by a main course of mixed salad – hold the croutons and absolutely no dressing. This fresh air feast will be followed by a protracted absence while she goes to the loo. She is very quiet all evening, in fact, she hardly says a word and doesn’t seem to be listening to you either. Don’t take it personally, it’s not you, she’s just exhausted!

She’s anorexic. Conversely, if when she comes back from the loo she orders two desserts, scoffs the lot and then disappears off to the loo again, she’s bulimic.

This little minx acts all girly and helpless and insists you order for her, you big strong man, you. She spends the whole of dinner gazing adoringly into your eyes and agrees with everything you say. Her pièce de résistance? Asking how many kids you’d like and how you feel about living in the country.

She’s desperate for a husband and 2.2 children and assuming that this is not forthcoming within the first two weeks of knowing you, has the potential to turn into a bunny boiler. I bet you anything she’s already trying on your surname for size … run!

Before she even reaches the table she’s downed a couple of Margaritas (no salt) amid lots of nervous chatter. She then has a couple of glasses of wine with a light but daring starter, followed by a main course that she seemed to really want but it now appears she’s not so keen; she’s pushing it around her plate rather than actually eating it.

She’s nervous and what’s more she really likes you, hence the rather un-cool initial chattering. As the evening progresses and she chills out you will be captivated by her intelligence, amusing conversation and feminine charms. Shame about losing her appetite, especially as once she’s home the first thing she will do is make a bacon sandwich.

There’s one more rule of thumb: if he covertly flirts with the waitress it’s a sure sign he’ll be unfaithful. Harsh, but fair. If she flirts with a waiter, she’s bored. But hey, don’t worry, in my experience that means she’ll be picking up the tab.

Assuming the date has gone well and we want to see him again, bringing the evening to a close can be a tricky business. How far should one go on a first date, especially if we really like the guy?

At the end of any date there is always that awkward ‘will he kiss me, won’t he kiss me?’ moment. Suddenly he does and when it’s a magical, waves crashing on the shore, full blown Hollywood-style smooch we really don’t want to bring the evening to an end as our hearts pound and we get more than a little hot under the collar. The question is, should we hold back or should we abandon ourselves to the moment and follow our more primal instincts and go with the flow? There is, of course, no right or wrong answer, we just have to do what we feel is right for us.

All this talk of should we, shouldn’t we, leads me to thinking about one-night stands: why we have them and if they really are all that enjoyable?