Last night, I met up with a guy from Bumble and he took me to a restaurant that he recommended because of their dumplings.
Everything was going as well as it could for a dating-app first date. At one point, Bumbler Dumpler excused himself to the bathroom. The moment he was gone, our waitress came up to me, refilled my water, and leaned in, saying “This is his third date here this week, thought you should know.” I let out a brief laugh and she walked away, confident as ever.
What the fuck?
Maybe you’ve heard about this occurrence before, because it showed up on some Tonight Show list of “Worst First Dates,” which then got repurposed into a hundred different click bait articles. Some of these articles just rehash exactly what is said in the video, which is also a part of the article. I can’t believe that websites like this exist, but that’s for another time, and probably for one of the other staff writers here: David.
Bumbler Dumpler came back to the table and immediately asked me if something was wrong. I’m not one to hide my emotions, so it must have been clear how annoyed I was. I tried to explain, but couldn’t put it into a coherent sentence. Instead, I called the informative waitress back over. She seemed hesitant. My face was clear: I’m about to make a scene.
She came over and stood next to our table.
“Can I help you with something?” she coyly asked. This was the game she was going to play.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’d love to know why you would try to ruin this date I’m on by telling me what you told me.”
“What did she tell you?” Bumbler Dumpler chimed in.
“She told me that I’m you’re third date here this week, like you’re a sleazy guy, which you may very well be, but the amount of dates you go on per week, at this point in our “relationship,” is completely irrelevant.”
Our waitress stammered for a second.
“On top of that,” I continued, “you don’t know jack shit about this dude and what kind of free time he has or doesn’t have, you don’t know anything about his life, and you don’t know anything about mine, my beliefs, or how many dates I’ve been on this week. At least this guy had the decency to take me somewhere he’s comfortable, which I think we can all agree is important on a first date, and that he is confident in the quality of the food. Now, the service? I don’t know about that anymore.”
Waitress changed her stance, taking on a position of stronger attitude.
“I was just trying to let you know, help a sister out.”
“If this is your idea of helping a sister out, then you need to rethink your idea of both the words “help,” and “sister.” Want to really help a sister out? Send us over a complimentary bottle of wine so we can try to salvage what’s left of the date that you tried to sabotage under the guise of feminism. I like reds, thanks.”
We finished the bottle of wine with our dumplings (which were great), left a big tip, made out on the sidewalk, then went our separate ways. He was a little too tall for my taste, anyway.