READING
The date, reported the next morning
My sister met someone last night, and this morning I got the full report over coffee. Here is her account, faithfully retold.
She said his profile photo was ten years old — which she noticed within four seconds — but that he had a nice smile, so she stayed. He told her he worked "in finance". Later he admitted that he was between jobs, and that "in finance" meant he owed the bank money. She said she actually respected the honesty.
Then the interview began — his interview, of her. He asked her where she lived and how much her rent was. He asked her whether she wanted children, how many, and by what year. He asked her if she could cook, and — I promise this is real — whether her mother could cook, "because these things travel down the family". My sister told him that her mother was a wonderful cook and that he would never, ever find out personally.
She said she'd decided to leave at that point, but the waiter arrived, so she stayed for the pasta. Good pasta, apparently.
Over dessert, something shifted. He stopped performing. He told her that he'd been nervous all evening, that this was his first date since his divorce, and that he'd read a "dating tips" article that morning that had clearly ruined everything. He said the questions were from the article. He said he was sorry. She said this was, finally, an interesting conversation.
They talked for two more hours — about the divorce, about her disaster of a year, about nothing. He didn't ask about any follow-up date. He said he'd had a lovely evening but that she deserved someone who didn't need an article. And that — she told me, staring into her coffee — is why she's going to text him first. Today.