Money is not the root of all evil. People are the root of all money. People use money and people use people. It's the game of life. Life cannot be played without money. This is rule number one.
Men and their money became a subject of study after many years of dating and many years in the workforce. When I was young, my interest in men revolved around love. As I grew older, my interest changed to a psychological study revolving more around money than love. The change was slow and methodical occurring over the course of many years. The older I got, the more laborious my dates became. The date across the dinner table began to sound too much like the boss across the conference table. Their only focus of discussion was about money.
The men at the dinner table worried about the cost of the meal and drinks. When the check arrived, they quickly calculated the customary 20 per cent tip and exhaled in a manner similar to moaning while they mentally recalled the service to determine if there was cause for reducing the amount to 10 or 15 per cent instead. They quickly evaluated their server as though the restaurant demanded they complete a customer survey before being allowed to leave. They tried to remember how they were greeted, whether the server smiled brightly or if they could recall a stain on the server's white shirt. Then, they would try determining if the food was served fast enough or good enough to justify a tip. Some of them would comment on their opinion regarding the meal while others would sigh in resignation that the food and service was not bad enough to complain about. They only told me the amount of tip they planned to leave if they considered it a large tip and wanted to impress me with their generosity. They would frequently look at me to question whether I agreed with their financial decision or to inquire if I had any comments to add. I always indicated extreme pleasure with the meal and the server, even if I had any doubts. A good guest always compliments the host and, therefore, the food and service is always above average. The server always earns a tip. The exceptions to this rule are rare.
After determining the amount of tip to leave, my date would usually ask if I wanted to go somewhere else for after-dinner drinks. I seldom did. I am not particularly fond of alcoholic beverages and consider a glass of wine with my meal to be an extravagance I truly appreciate. If I drink more than two glasses of wine, I am ready to sleep and, therefore, no longer interested in a man's company. Most men find this rude, especially if I drank with dinner. This after-dinner question usually made me nervous because I did not know how to best answer it. If I had enjoyed his company, I would have been interested in going dancing or to a coffee shop for hot tea or dessert. Even when I was no longer interested in the man, I still did not want to appear rude after having eaten the meal he purchased and, therefore, did not want to decline his invitation. I was more concerned about being polite than I was about being honest.
Following a dinner date with one man, I did decline the after-dinner drink by claiming to have a headache. My date got so angry he sped the entire way to my apartment, only a few blocks away and slammed on the brakes so hard he left skid marks outside my apartment building. Once stopped, he leaned across me sitting in the passenger seat and threw the passenger car door open.
"Get out," he yelled.
Stunned and surprised, I got out of the car. He floored the gas pedal and drove away without even bothering to close the door. The door closed while he drove. I stood in the street watching him drive away and noticed that the shocks on his car must have been old and worn because his car bounced while he drove. Once inside my apartment and starting to feel safe, I called my girlfriend to ask why he got so angry about the headache I used as an excuse to end the date. I learned that this is frequently an excuse given by women and that the next time I wanted to end the evening early, I should use a different reason.
I felt guilty for having used an excuse for not wanting to continue the dinner date by going for more drinks or to another location to spend more time with him. If I had had his telephone number I might have called him as an attempt to soothe his ego. I wondered if he might call the next day, but hoped that he wouldn't. He didn't.
There were several reasons why I didn't want to continue the date with this man much longer past dinner. What offended me most was the way he treated the wait staff. I considered him rude. He would snap his fingers at the waiter to get his attention whenever he wanted another drink or something else delivered to the table. He did this often and would get annoyed if the waiter didn't rush to his side.
Then, after the waiter arrived, he would order something as though the waiter was hard of hearing. While the waiter was away fetching whatever this man requested, my date would complain about the service as though it was the worst he had ever received. He spent most of the date complaining about the service, the food or the decor. It was a fine restaurant, yet this man did not seem to have anything to discuss other than himself and the poor service he felt he was receiving. He was trying to impress me with his importance by ordering the staff around, complaining about the food or finding fault with almost everything. Instead of impressing me as he intended, he appeared insignificant instead. What could have been a nice evening turned into an evening of aggravation instead. When the check arrived, I feared he would make an even bigger scene by searching for a reason not to pay. The man was rude, arrogant and more concerned about himself than he was with his date.
Thus, when he asked if I wanted to go somewhere else after dinner, I almost groaned at the thought of spending any more time with him. I was rather inexperienced at dating in those years and spent my time in the ladies' room trying to come up with an excuse to get home immediately. I was rather proud of my decision to claim a headache since it was too late to feign the flu. I was shocked when he practically dragged me to the car as he escorted me out. I really didn't care at the time, provided he got me home quickly. The fast ride and the even faster deposit in the middle of the street were reminiscent of the way he treated the wait staff. In retrospect, I was probably fortunate that was the worst thing he did. I was even more fortunate that he did not call again.
As a result of my experience with this man, I decided to refrain from allowing men to pick me up at my place when asked on a first date. I began to offer to meet them at the designated location instead. I wanted to know them a little better before agreeing to ride in their car. I also learned to avoid dating men who already appeared cheap. If they worry more about the cost of dinner than they do about me, they aren't worth dating in the first place. This is especially true since they are the ones to select the location and, therefore, the cost of the date. If they can't afford the restaurant they choose, then they can't afford to date. He could have selected a pizzeria and a glass of wine if he didn't consider his cash flow large enough to dine at a four-star restaurant. I would have preferred a pizza and a pleasant evening to a steak dinner filled with complaints.
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