What Number Date?

I have worked in restaurants for the better part of twelve years, and my experience has taught me a few truths: 1. If a patron has an accent, chances are they're not aware you only make $2/hour. 2. If someone orders a filet well done, they've never had a filet medium rare, and 3. Winter months suck. Especially in Charlottesville, where it seems the entire city hibernates once the temperature drops below 30. During this time, it is important to find ways to entertain yourself. Last night was one such night. I finished the most difficult sudoku in Cville weekly, continued my quest to get a drink named after me, and was wondering how next to stimulate my mind. Just then, a couple was sat in my section. Time to my play my favorite game - guess the backstory.

I do this with most of my tables. No judgement. Merely speculation. Where are they from, where do they work, how do they know one another? Is this business or pleasure? The most exciting tables are generally couples. Is it a first date? Are they parents on a special night out? Are they breaking up within the next two weeks? As a bartender, you have the advantage of hearing everything across the counter, but servers are only privy to the bits heard while passing the table or taking orders, making it a much more difficult task. Never one to shy away from a challenge, I greet the table, ready to determine their relationship stage.

First sign. No rings. Second sign. They are both sitting with extremely excellent posture. I think your posture directly correlates with how long you have been with someone. By your fiftieth anniversary, you're hunched. Both had dined at Commonwealth before and weren't sure of a drink choice yet, nor were they looking at the menu. Third sign: a veteran couple would have ordered drinks immediately and had menus opened. Eventually, the man orders a Jack and Coke, and the lady wanted "what he's having." Classic. Already they have a mutual love for mediocre whiskey over which they can bond.

I pass by a couple times to see if they would like to order appetizers, and they keep ignoring the menu. At this point, I feel anxious because I would have ordered twenty minutes ago. I have to remind myself not everyone goes out to dinner to immediately indulge. I can't wrap my head around this concept, so I serve them another round of drinks.

The man tells me: "We're having good conversation as our appetizer, and we will get entrees in a bit." Or: we're going to keep sucking down these jack and cokes on empty stomachs and see where the night leads.

I love good conversation. You know what else I love? Calamari. And pork belly.

I meander to the kitchen, and Joe, the expo for the night, asks if they are ordering food. Not yet. Definitely date 1, 2, or 3, and they haven't hooked up yet, because the sexual tension is palpable. Joe is not interested in my hypothesis.

Thankfully, the other servers are. Andrew confirms it was an early date. Her hair looked way too good to be out with her boyfriend. Molly overheard them introducing their jobs, which settled the question. Date number one.

Bold move - diving into dinner. You can't escape if the first twenty minutes are a nightmare. They seem to be enjoying themselves, though, and the outlook was definitely positive.

After forty minutes, I am about to simply order food for them, when they decide. Steak for the man, sea bass for the woman. Predictable.

The man orders a Vienna Lager, and the woman decides to switch to wine. She tells me she was doing things backwards, drinking liquor then wine. As I explain to her why this drink order made perfect sense, her date returns from the bathroom and gently caresses the back of her neck as he passes her chair. O man. There hadn't been this much excitement on a weekday since we switched the menu and got to try all of the dishes.

When I return to see if they like their meals, I am clearly interrupting.
"How are your meals?" I ask.
"Good," says the woman, "but I may need a side of dignity." Ahhh the classic "engage in witty rhetoric with the server" move, showing your versatile personality. I play along:
"Just keep drinking the wine. It helps."

Throughout dinner, their body language is positive. No arms crossing, a flip of the hair, leaning a bit over the table. Upon picking up their finished dishes, I realize they had reached the part where the woman tells him something a little personal, and he listens. Vulnerability. Support. A well rounded date, indeed.

They pass on dessert. I suspected they would want to get things moving. When I drop off the bill, the mood has lightened, and the woman casually mentions that her dog is taken care of for the evening. I was right. It's on.

They pay, I thank them for their patronage, tell them to enjoy the rest of their evening.

We're not finished, though. Now comes the awkward lull. They both know where the night is going to lead, but are not sure how to broach the subject. The man doesn't want to seem overly presumptuous, the woman doesn't want to seem easy, so instead they sit, nursing the last of their drinks. Meanwhile, I just want to cash out and go to my couch to catch some late night SportsCenter.

I consider going to the table and facilitating the conversation for them. Andrew encourages me: "If you play your cards right, you could be invited to join them." Perhaps as a commentator. After all, I had been commentating on their date all night.

Thankfully, they soon got up to go to the bathroom before leaving, a natural segue. I return to the kitchen, wondering if they will engage in a stairwell make-out or have the self control to wait until they leave our classy establishment.

Alas, I will not know. I am 95% sure this will lead somewhere, but not positive, and that is the frustrating part of this speculation game. I rarely see the truths of my presumptions. Tonight, though, the restaurant gods smiled upon me. I walk out of the kitchen, and behold, they had returned from the bathroom and were making out by the table. Congrats, crazy kids. I have a feeling another server will have the opportunity to assess date two.