Anatomy of a First (and Last) Date

O.K., this is a good one.

So, Saturday night, I went on a date with a guy named . . . let's say, Drew.* I met Drew at, of all places, the convenience store down the road. We were both waiting in line, and he struck up a conversation with me, and I was strongly attracted to two things: his striking resemblance to Matthew McConaughey, and the fact that he was not buying Lotto tickets. (He was, in fact, purchasing a bottle of Arizona Iced Tea and a pack of gum.) He seemed interesting enough, and he was totally adorable. We walked outside and continued our conversation, for about 10 minutes or so, and eventually we did the phone-number exchange thing, and he called me two days later. So far, so good.

Of course, I broke the first rule of dating by agreeing to go out on a Saturday night. For those of you who have been married since the Stone Age, this is now a rule. You do not go out for the first time on a weekend night. You first go out during the week, either for coffee or lunch or drinks right after work. You do not commit to dinner right away, nor do you give over any of your weekend time. I'm not much for rules, though, so Drew and I made plans to go to dinner on Saturday. (Oh wait, that's two rules broken. Oh well.)

So around 7:00 he picks me up and we head to this Mexican place. Margaritas in hand, we begin the first-date talk. And things go downhill almost immediately.

Right now, I must diverge and share some of my thoughts on what a first date should be like. First of all, you shouldn't get too deep into the whole personal-history thing. The basics are O.K.--three siblings, divorced parents, attended college at __________, divorced yourself once, etc. But rehashing too much of the life story is a waste of everyone's time, on both sides, if things don't work out . . . which, frankly, they often don't after a first date. It's tiring telling your whole life story over and over again, especially if, as with me, it's kind of complicated. And again, quite frankly, as fascinating as we all find our own stories to be, the details just aren't that interesting to other people, at least not at first. This works both ways, of course.


So, what sorts of things should you be talking about? Here's my list of acceptable (and, in some cases, essential) first-date topics:


1. Books
2. Music
3. Movies
4. Politics (Unlike other social settings, you should talk about politics on a first date. That way, if someone, say, approves of the Bush administration in any way, shape, or form, you can excuse yourself to go the restroom and then never return.)
5. Hobbies, on a limited basis (Your date might not be nearly as interested in, say, poker, quilting, crossword puzzles, etc., as you are.)
6. Any unique experiences/adventures you've had in your life (e.g., my time in Africa)
7. Your job, on a limited basis (Again, your job, unless you are Brad Pitt's personal assistant, is not nearly as fascinating to other people as you might imagine it to be.)
8. Children, if you have them (Although I do not have children myself, I do recognize that they are important enough to be included in first-date conversation.)


O.K., that's just off the top of my head, but you get the idea. You need to keep things focused on the fun, interesting aspects of life. But the topics themselves fade in comparison to the most important rule, which is: You need to show a modicum of interest in your date and let them get in a word in now and then. Maybe even ask them a question on occasion, rather than turning the conversation immediately back to yourself at every opportunity. Maybe, sometimes, actually acknowledging what they just said, rather than carrying on with your own spiel as if you were being filmed for an HBO special on the fascinating specialness that is you. Do you know what I mean?


Well, Drew didn't get this. Not at all. Instead, I was treated to about an hour and a half of the Drew Monologues. About 20 minutes into it, I started thinking about how I would rather be home playing online poker. An hour later, I was on my third margarita, trying to make him more interesting (because he was so damn cute), but even that didn't help. By the end of the evening, I was trying to figure out how to fend off mention of a second date, in case he brought it up.


You know, I just don't get the whole thing with guys not knowing, at all, how to talk to women. I don't understand it from an evolutionary standpoint. It's such a simple thing, and it's not like it's a secret--and, it would help them get laid a lot more, so you'd think they would've found a way to adapt by now. Of course, Drew is good-looking enough that maybe he gets laid a lot anyway. But it didn't happen for him that night. Poor Drew.

*Actually his real name. You'll never meet him, and he'll never read this, so it doesn't matter.