My girlfriend has never eaten a full meal, at least not around me. I noticed it the first time we went out for dinner. She asked if I wanted any appetizers and I didn’t but I didn’t want to be ‘that guy’ - the guy who eats a salad and takes home leftovers when he's trying to impress a date. I know that on a first date, if I take home a doggie bag, they might as well wrap up my testicles as I won't be needing them.
I guess it was naiveté that made me think someone would actually finish a meal they ordered. She left two or three bites, as she now calls it, and that’s true if we’re talking about T-Rex sided mouthfuls but I should have left her food as I never committed to eating it but she asked me and slid the plate my way in the cutest way and I’m in shape so no one can accuse me of being a slob or a fatass and I’m not one to waste food especially when there are starving children in late night TV commercials. I looked around and half expected Alan Funt or even Ashton Kutcher to pop out and say I was being pranked and I would have asked Mr. Kutcher one of the two questions all of America has been waited to ask since he took over Two and a Half Men and starred in the Jobs movie: what the hell kind of a name is Ashton? I polished off my girlfriend's meal but it took quite a lot more than the two or three bites she claimed it was and I remember wanting to unbutton my pants when we I finished.
The waitress showed up just in time to see the empty plate now back in it’s original position and she gave my date a nod as if to say ‘right on sister’ and my date silently took credit. The waitress cleared the plates and asked if we wanted any dessert. My then date but now girlfriend answered ‘yes.’ I asked her again as I thought she was full and she said she wasn’t without any further explanation.
Before it could be discussed any further, there were two plates in front of us and she got this huge hunk of chocolate death or something like that and mine was a giant vanilla thing that I have no recollection of ordering but was as least as large as hers. She took two mini bites and pushed her plate to me and I had two hulking masses in front of me that if my dentist saw me eating, would have made him order that twenty foot yacht he’d been wanting. I finished both and loosened my belt and unbuttoned my top button quietly under the table.
On the way home, I thought about dinner and what I’d do differently next time. I also thought about not seeing this girl again but I really liked herald she’s probably just being a lady; date two was going to be different.
I recommended the restaurant, partly because I know they have smaller portions, and I also suggested that we not order appetizers. She agreed and the waiter brought water and bread. She grabbed the largest piece and two of those mini butter tubs. I grabbed a piece of bread and placed the bread basket on the other side of me so she couldn’t take another piece.
Our meals came and I cleaned my plate and watched to see if she had put a dent in hers. She stopped, again, two gigantic bites short and pushed the plate to me. I smiled that half smile you always smile when you want to say no but you’re too polite to actually say it. Her meal took me more than a few bites and when the waiter arrived with the check, my girl asked for dessert menus. She ordered and I didn’t but in the end, I ended up eating three-quarters of hers which was twice as big as it was on the first date.
Growing up, I remember my mom telling me not to eat before dinner because I’d spoil my appetite. That rationale didn’t work as I got older because there was always another appetite nipping at it’s heels. There have been times, however, when I’ve been too full for dessert, and I figured out a way around it; I eat dessert first.
For date three, I had a plan. I read in Cosmo that women love it when men have a plan and I read in GQ that women hate it when men read Cosmo. My plan but it had a scheme attached to it. We were going to NYC for dinner and a broadway show and I timed it so we would have time for dessert. The restaurant was a bit expensive but that was fine; it was a special occasion: it was the two day anniversary of the first time we held hands. Since then, there have been a thousand firsts, all of which she likes to celebrate and all of which I have to remember.
We once again skipped the appetizers, but when the bread came, she kept it by her. When I asked for a piece, I expected her to pass the basket but she didn’t. She asked which one I wanted and then passed it to me. As we talked, I couldn’t help but keep track of how many pieces of bread she was eating; I knew that with every bite she took, that would be another bite of her food I would have to eat.
Three pieces in, our meals came and when the waitress attempted to take the bread, my date motioned for her to leave it. When my meal was finished, I, of course, tackled hers. We hightailed it out of there as we really didn’t have time for dessert; we had just enough time to make it to the show.
I saw it from a block away - it was like that car accident you can see coming almost in slow motion but you can’t do anything to stop it. I thought about dragging her across the street but the theatre was on this side of the block. I moved to the other side of her so she would be looking toward the street rather than at the store fronts. I thought we’d pass the ice cream shop without her seeing it but for extra measure, I shared an anecdote which made her chuckle a cute chuckle I hadn’t heard before. And I forgot about the ice cream shop and what I was saying and I was momentarily stuck in a trance. It was then that it happened.
In NYC, I was always taught to always be on my guard and the times when I haven’t been, that’s when I get surprised. A jaywalker, not looking, or perhaps not caring where he was going, crossed directly in front of us close enough for my shoe to scrape against his calf. I stopped short and held her back. She turned to her right and yelled “rude” and it was then that she saw it too.
She looked at me and then at the shop, then back at me again with those eyes you just can’t say no to. She dragged me inside, not literally but almost. When said I didn’t want any, her single scoop morphed into a double which I ended up scarfing down right outside the theatre. I attended the show with a frozen head and no regrets and for the past eighteen months, I’ve never been heavier happier. And she still hasn’t finished a meal, no matter how small.
