The Bagel-Eating Democrat

In doing this super fun (yet sometimes beleaguered) online dating experiment, I've thought back on the history of online dates I've had in my past.  My very first was in the spring of 2008.  I was unsure how the whole situation worked.  My profile was god-awful with pictures that were just wrong.  I have no idea how I attracted anyone at all.  And then I look at who did contact me.

In the middle of the biggest Presidential election season of my lifetime, I thought it was super cool that a worker for Hillary's campaign emailed me.  He was attractive, a bit younger than myself, and a hard-core democrat.  All sounds good for finding someone to have a little fun with, right?

When we spoke on the phone, he told me about his fashion blog, so I instantly thought I was falling into old habits by potentially hooking up with one of those "confused" guys (more on that tidbit o'fun in a possible future post).  He asked me to meet up with him at a French bakery on 9th Avenue in midtown.  I was confused because I'm quite familiar with all things midtown and all French places in NYC in general, and I knew of no French patisseries anywhere near there.  But I went along with it.

We met up and walked down 9th Ave to this phantom spot until we were almost to Port Authority where the Bagel-Eating Democrat remembered he didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

"Would you want to go to a bar instead?"
Sigh (is this what online dating is about?), "Sure.  That's fine."
"You pick.  My ideas are busts."

We headed to Vintage on 51st and 9th and sat down about the time I noticed he didn't look as much like his pictures as I recalled.  I immediately turned the conversation to Hills and his working for her campaign.  Finally something interesting to both of us.  The waitress (who has come to be my favorite waitress in midtown since I've been on a number of first dates, had a few birthday parties, and even some random late night forages for nachos there) approached:

"What can I get you guys?"
Ladies first, "Absolut Pears and Sprite [my signature drink]"
"And you, sir?"
"Water.  I don't drink," in his most condescending tone.

Cool Waitress made eye contact with me, smirked, and walked away.  I told him we didn't have to come to a bar, and that I didn't NEED an alcoholic drink.  He said it was fine and continued his story about Hills giving speeches.

Cool Waitress returned with our bevvies, "Would you guys like some food?"
He gestured for me to go first.  I honestly don't remember what I ordered, but it was something light and quick as I knew this date wouldn't be lasting long.
She turned to my now annoying date, "I'm not hungry. Thanks."
Another look from Cool Waitress.

Shaking my head and a bit embarrassed that I was now the girl with a cocktail and a plate of food on the way, I listened to more campaign lore.  A few bites into my appetizer, the Democrat pulled out his trendy messenger bag and retrieved a bagel from it.

Uh.  I thought you weren't hungry, mister.

"A guy's gotta eat," he told me.

We finished our drinks, and I told him I thought I was going to call it a night.  It was already 7pm, and I had a lot to do.

"Need me to ride home with you?"
"Nah, I'm good," I told him.
"Well, I'll walk you to the subway at least."

We got to Columbus Circle.  "Here's me," I said.  He then leaned in, opened-mouthed, ready to devour my face.  I performed a dodge only known outside this instance as a contortionist's move and maneuvered into an awkward hug.  "You sure you don't want me to go home with you?"

I was sure.  My hour with The Bagel-Eating Democrat will never leave the forefront of my mind.  And every time I eat a bagel, I think of him... and am horrified.