Strange Places Strange Faces

So I just returned from the Mona Lisa of first dates. I am not just saying that. First dates can sometimes be quite awkward and even disastrous, but this one was fun! It's difficult to really discern what a woman wants from a first date after only a couple hours of conversation on the phone. My date was a doctor. I'll call her Doctor J like the legendary basketball player. Doctor J intimated that she liked Mexican food, particularly guacamole. I confess, I love Mexican, but guacamole and/or sour cream are never crossing my lips. In fact, I'd rather die than eat guac.

All of the sudden, I am feeling that pressure that dudes sometimes place upon themselves to find that perfect spot to satisfy their first date's needs -- it's like our first try to come up swinging and hit one out of the ballpark. There's a little performance anxiety hanging over our heads. We sweat. We think too much. We generally think so much that we screw things up and die hard trying.

I seldomly read the Cleveland Free Times or Scene Magazine. They're alternative papers here that I enjoy, but I just never pull them out of the box. For whatever reason yesterday, I was inclined to scoop up copies of each. Of course, as luck would have it, a sharp new Mexican restaurant was critiqued in the Free Times. The write-up interesting, and the piece de la resistance is that this place specialized in GUACAMOLE. Now, the date could have sucked the big one, but at least I would have given Dr. J her guacamole. At least it would have looked like I tried.

When I picked her up, I didn't tell her where we were going. The secret was a wonderful thing I had kept to myself all day. I was so excited that I had found the "perfect place" (or so I hoped) that I could hardly contain myself. So, long story short, the place had this amazing guacamole -- six different styles (flavors). We got a sampler of three. My grandmother always taught me that if you try something three times you'll like it. So, I dipped three times. Sure enough, I was in heaven. It didn't hurt that the conversation was flawless, and I was paying more attention to Dr. J than I was to our food.

There was, however, one problem. I kept on bringing up death. I talked about death and dying every other story. Maybe it's because I was with Dr. J and I felt comfortable about it. Maybe it's because I wanted her to feel comfortable discussing her job around me (she is a pediatric intensive care doctor). Either way, the subject was like a dark cloud I placed over our heads while we sat on a patio under a ray of sunshine.

Dr. J was the one who suggested I call this blog entry "Death Over Guacamole". She couldn't help but notice the double entendre between my wanting to die before I would ever consider eating guacamole and our morbid little discussion about death and dying.

By the way, for those of you who are devotees to this blog, and are wondering what category Dr. J fell under -- she is super sexy. I am totally attracted to her, and we had a wonderful time.

Most guys, again, spend so much time and effort worrying about the first date that they either (a) blow the whole thing after five minutes; (b) work so hard for a second date that they blow the whole thing by the end of the night; or (c) take it easy and know the second date is just around the corner.

I'm hoping my guacamole experience and our easy conversation will equal (c). And, I promise, if (c) happens, there'll be no more "Death Over Guacamole".

Menu at www.momocho.com

Posted by Ike on Saturday, July 01, 2006 at 1:26 AM | Permalink