A good way to analyze whether or not you can go on a second date with a person and then marry them, have children together, and eventually be buried next to each other on a hill somewhere, is to eat with them first.
It’s not a mistake that going out to eat with someone is traditionally a first date. You can get coffee, but this isn’t going to tell you enough about the real person. Sure, they may be really annoying with a complicated order at Starbucks, but that’s everyone at Starbucks. Unless you’re like me, a veteran of the road, who orders a black coffee because you’re cool like that, and takes pride in grabbing your coffee at the register and walking past all the boobs waiting for their triple-douchey lattes. Sure, the barista may trip you up by making you specify which black coffee, but you’ll go with a Pike, which has the added benefit of sounding cool.
Now back to our original programming.
Eating with someone is truly a necessary first test. Let’s be clear, these early dates are tests. They are little pass-or-fail activities because we need a lot of information as quickly as possible so we can get on with our lives, with or without this person.
The reason why eating together is so crucial is that if you do continue on, you’re going to eat a lot of meals together. That’s basically what a relationship is; someone to graze with.
There’s breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, road-trip gas stations, and vending machines. You will chew gum, slurp soups, twirl pasta, and crunch on Kettle chips together for years to come, and while no one is perfect at any of this, the fewer habits they have that will make you want to kill yourself, the better.
You could meet a beautiful girl with a great sense of humor, who likes the same bands as you, but if she does something weird with her lips when she’s sipping from a hot coffee cup, you’re in big trouble.
These little trivial eating tics grow in size with every year. That cute little snapping sound your lover makes when they swallow will one day be the loudest sound you’ve ever heard. Earth-shattering, window-rattling, breaking-the-sound-barrier loud. You have to be okay with that.
We know a couple who have asked us to go on vacation with them. We love these people; they are very good friends of ours, and we will never go. Not because we don’t care for them, but because of the way they eat.
They eat with their hands, like monkeys who were raised by baboons on the wrong side of the trees. They hover over whatever is served—spaghetti, chili, soup—and pick it up with their fingers and put it into their mouths. And then they chew, lick, and slurp the ends of their fingers, because they don’t use utensils, and put those saliva- and food-covered tentacles back into the food and repeat.
This is bad enough when they are picking at their own plate, but when it is something we are all sharing I have to fight the urge to walk out of the restaurant, jump in an Uber, and drive around the city in search of new friends.
I’m sure they would read this with astonishment and disbelief, as they think it is perfectly normal to run your tongue over your hands like a cat and then shove them back into a communal hummus plate. That’s okay that they think this behavior is all right, because they both agree that it’s okay and that’s why they married each other.
If I had gone on a date with her and she did that, we never would have made it to dessert, but my friend saw this as a sign of compatibility. With each finger lick he jumped for joy inside, thinking, I’ve found my soul mate. What are the odds? I use my thumb to spread butter, she uses her thumb to spread butter. It’s a miracle!
Yech.
Look, I’m not perfect. I’m sure there are some habits that I’m unaware of that would make the two of them cringe. But honestly, probably not. I’m pretty flawless when it comes to manners, especially while eating. I follow the long-established rules because I believe those are what keep us humans from regurgitating our breakfast and spitting into each other’s mouths like baby birds.
But maybe it’s this strict adherence to evolved human behavior that drives my friends crazy. Maybe they think that I’m a tight-ass who’s way too obsessed with good behavior.
“Screw Tom and his rules. He’s so uptight,” they say as they lick salsa off their wrists. “He’s no fun at all.”
Will we remain friends despite this divide? Yes, of course. Because we are just friends and I can look past the stains on their shirts and the stuff caught in their teeth. But a lover, a partner, or a spouse cannot survive that enormous difference in behavior.
I couldn’t turn off the lights at night and lie there in the dark knowing that the person sharing my bed chews with her mouth open. Absolutely not. Is my wife perfect? No, she isn’t, but the stuff that she does isn’t grounds for divorce because I saw these habits immediately and decided I should call her for a second date.
For instance, I know, when we go into a restaurant together, that we will not be sitting at the first table the hostess gives us. My wife will find something wrong with it, probably having to do with a slight breeze. Her ability to feel a breeze is uncanny. If there is such a thing as the world championships for kite flying she should sign up because she has the ability to detect motions in the air that are so subtle even a mosquito would be impressed.
My wife is funny.
I also know that after we’ve moved a couple times we will end up back in our original seat having accomplished nothing but having put on a show of musical chairs for the other guests.
Then the waiter will come over and ask, as every waiter has done since the first restaurant was built, if he can get us something to drink. My wife, despite working and eating in restaurants for more than thirty years, will not be prepared for this question. It is a surprise every time. She will stammer and apologize and ask for more time and send him away.
It’s cute.
She is a vegetarian, although she eats fish once in a while, but not all fish, especially not the kind of fish that tastes too much like fish. She doesn’t remember the names of the fish that she does eat, so when the waiter asks if anyone has questions about the menu she’s definitely going to have some. So many, in fact, that he will have to excuse himself from the table in order to catch his breath and start working on his résumé.
He’d better not think it’s over when the meal has been completed. If this guy was rattled by the entrée encounter he may be put in the hospital when she orders dessert.
After about twenty minutes of watching my wife try to make up her mind, as if just talking and thinking about the dessert is as enjoyable as actually eating it, she will then move into the most mind-bending part of her order—the tea.
She only drinks tea. Certain teas. Decaf teas. Her favorite is black decaf tea that of course is only carried by two restaurants in all of North America and doesn’t exist in every other part of the world. But, God love her, that doesn’t stop her from asking. Every time.
Adorable.
He offers alternatives, bringing out the handcrafted wooden tea box filled with a bunch of minty, lemony, no-caffeine herbs and she denies every one. I love watching the look in the waiter’s eye when after his entire performance she says no and then orders hot water.
“What?” he asks.
“Just a cup of hot water,” she replies.
“Just hot water?”
“Yes.”
And, before he leaves, she pulls a tea bag out of her purse.
“I brought my own, just in case.”
At this point I’ve seen grown men look at me with tears in their eyes and, unable to speak, mouth the words, “Why? Why?”
Because she’s endearing.
Just when you thought the habits were over, we get ready to leave. The bill has been paid and the conversation slows, I will say we should get going, and that’s when she will declare that she has to use the ladies’ room.
Does this behavior drive you crazy? Are you reading this and thinking that you could never eat or live with a person who acted this way? Well, that’s fine. You don’t have to. I do, because I love her and she loves me and I saw all of this on the first date and it didn’t bother me at all.