The Cheesecake Factory at the mall.
Of course.
How exactly does one dress for a date at the mall? On a normal dinner date, a semi-dressy, semi-casual dress works just fine, but I feel like a complete toolbag showing up in my dress and heels to go to the MALL. And as Rowdy commented to me (in between her drops of the phone from laughing so hard), what if the date goes well? What do you do then? "Do you hold hands as you stroll through The Gap?"
Yup, that's what I get. Mom kept warning me that I shouldn't make fun of people on a public forum. (No, really—she did.)
So as I stand next to a fountain spitting water amongst stone squirrels and gnome-looking things, amidst children running around like screaming hyenas and scantily-dressed tweens carrying bags from Hollister, I wait for my date: Mr. Mall.
Whoah... Maybe I should call him Mr. Tall?
As he approaches (late—a man after my own heart), I am already looking up to him. I mean, literally, he's got to be 6'4" at least! He has to bend down in order to greet me with a hug and then takes charge, ushering us quickly into the restaurant.
We take two seats at the bar while we wait for a table, and I glance at the two guys sitting next to Mr. Mall. No, I am not checking out other men on my date (admit, the one was very cute, and he did start talking to me when my date went to the bathroom, but that's beside the point...). These two men who are holding down the bar happen to be in my line of sight the entire time; so, while Mr. Mall and I exchange the awkward kind of small talk that can only come from a pair who has obviously never met before, I am watching these guys snicker into their beers as they try not to look as though they are eavesdropping. Which they are—and they know I know they are watching. I'm sure my embarrassment is probably upping the "yuk" factor, so these clowns are having a ball.
Once we are seated at a table, dinner goes fairly normally. That is, until the high-fives start.
Have you ever seen that episode of Seinfeld where Puddy won't stop high-fiving Jerry? The one where Jerry has to keep going along with it, even though he feels like a moron, because once he finally puts a stop to it, Jerry knows the car deal is off? If not, watch the first 35 seconds of the clip below, and you'll see what I'm talking about.
With Mr. Mall, I receive high-fives across the dinner table for the following:
- Playing soccer in high school ("Cool! I played soccer too! High-five!").
- Not doing drugs ("You're so cool...high-five!").
- Drinking coffee ("I love coffee! High-five! Coffee's the best.").
- Saying something—I totally forget now, it was that unmeaningful—that he thought was very astute. And I'm sure I've forgotten at least one high-five in this list. Sigh.
I guess it could be worse—he could have taken me to Arby's. I am also pretty thankful that the bar clowns did not witness the whole high-fiving experience. I'm not sure my straight face would have lasted through dinner.
Just a day in my life as an episode of Seinfeld. At least I didn't need my just-in-case-of-an-emergency letter:
Conversation between DD, Chanel, Mamasita, Rowdy, Dolly, and Stella:
DD: Just in case I am never to be seen again, consider this my track-the-bastard-down-and-kill-him letter...or at least a good laugh. Tonight, I'm going on a date with a guy named Mr. Mall at 7 p.m. at the Cheesecake Factory. I don't know his address, but his phone number is 555-123-1234. All other descriptive info (hair color, tattoos, bad pick-up lines commonly used) will be found out and texted over the course of the night. If it is anytime after midnight on this same day, please send police, search parties, and ambulances to find me. In the event that you cannot find me, just make sure my stuff doesn't go to people I hate. And hug my parents for me. Thanks.
Chanel: Good luck. I will call you at exactly a midnight if I do not hear from you sooner. (And then I will call Rowdy. And then we will drive to the mall to find you.)
Rowdy: OH MY GOD. Who else wants to go to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory tonight and watch the train wreck happen?
Mamasita: If I didn't already have a dinner thing with Big D, I'll ditch the baby with him and go! HOLY SHIZA! PLEASE keep me posted via text!
DD: I hate you all. Is Chanel the only one who cares about whether I might DIE because this guy is a rapist, or a freak, or molests baby kittens in his spare time???!!!???
Dolly: Of course we care. That's why we all want to show up. For your protection. And btw, if I weren't out of town right now, I would totally be there.
Stella: Maybe we could video it and show it as an elearning for bad dating.
Lesson #12 in Post-Divorce Dating: Blind dates are like a box of chocolates; you never know what you're gonna get. However, the one piece of advice that always applies? Never disclose the location of a blind date to your friends unless you want company—or a complimentary home video commemorating the occassion.
Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée
