i should have just dated the roommate

This past weekend has been one of those where everybody seems to have somebody. One of those dreaded ‘singles’ in a couples world, kind of weekend. So yes, I’ve been pretty depressed. I know that a common complaint among women is that there are no good men left…but you know, that works in reverse too. It seems that all the good women have been taken. Of course, if both of these sentiments are true, nothing but us sucky members of society remain unattached. This doesn’t really help my current frame of mind, though. So in the spirit of depression, I’ll reminisce about one of my truly bad dates.

She was a freshman named Yvonne. I was 18 and stupid (compared to 32 and stupid) and had seen her across the campus cafeteria. I found out that my friend Bev knew her and, with some insider help, got a dinner date set up.

We went to a posh little restaurant near campus…which, in retrospect, was a dive but seemed pretty posh to the eighteen year old me. Yvonne was an engineering student, which was a major plus. Me, still being undecided as to what I wanted to do, figured that if things worked out between us, it would be pretty nice having a girlfriend in the high income bracket category. Unfortunately, she was about as interesting as you’d expect an engineering student to be…which was not very interesting at all.

As we waited for our food, I endured many Yvonne stories…all of which centered around her engineering classes and her high school memories of band camp and her senior year boyfriend, who, as it turned out, was coming up to see her that weekend. Nowadays, this would be more than enough to have me calling the waitress over, canceling the food order, and telling my date, ‘nice to meet you, I’m leaving’. Remember, though, I was 18, and despite all the red flags, I thought she was really good looking, so I was willing to overlook her shortcomings…such as being boring, emotionally attached, and very likely to be having sex with someone who wasn’t me in a few days.

I was very grateful when the food finally arrived…though this had less to do with my hunger than it did the fact that Yvonne’s mouth would be put to another use than talking. Though it did seem odd when, as soon as the food was set down in front of her, she asked for a doggie bag.

“Call me crazy,” I said, “but don’t people generally get doggie bags after the meal?”

“Oh,” she told me, “I ate before I came to meet you for dinner. But my roommate said that she was hungry, so I ordered this for her. As soon as we’re done I’m going to take it to her.”

As stupid as I was (though I’m still pretty stupid) even I knew that this date was officially over. And I wish I could tell you that I stood up, picked up her food, dumped it onto the floor and walked out on her. But no, I stayed and ate my meal...pretty much in silence because, at that point, I could really have cared less about Yvonne or her roommate, and paid the bill.

And as I sat alone watching television later that night, I was hoping that somewhere across campus a girl that I had never met was choking on the pasta primavera that Yvonne had brought home for her.