I met a guy who was into Raw food and he asked me out on a date. Presumably, he would take me out to eat at a Raw food restaurant. He called me on the day of our date and said his car was in the shop so he asked me to drive. Sure.
I picked him up, I’m a modern woman after all, and then proceeded to drive to some town I hadn’t heard of on the outskirts of Los Angeles. This took about four hours, because he didn’t believe in using directions to get somewhere, because it was about the “journey”. Fine.
We entered the restaurant and everyone was wearing white or beige. I was wearing red. Which the hostess pointed out to me was the color of animal’s blood, which they don’t serve there. Great.
We ordered an appetizer of raw god knows what. It came out as a tiny tiny tiny orange mound of food. We split it and it barely filled my spoon. That appetizer was $45. Hm.
We had a meal of tiny food (that was, to be fair, minuscule but delicious.) I felt like I was eating the food of tiny squirrels. I’m talking every plate had about a dime shape of food on it. The bill came after our meal and it was $200. I politely offered to pitch in. But, my date said he forgot his wallet and asked if I could pay. FANTASTIC.
I paid angrily and he looked happy as a clam. He then asked me if I could take him to get groceries at a Raw food store since he forgot his wallet and didn’t have a car until it was fixed. I began to question whether this “car” existed.
I took him to get groceries because I’m an absurd person. And I paid for them, with the promise that he would pay me back. I drove him home and dropped him off. I waited for him to go inside his “house” but he just lingered in the yard.
I realized I may have just taken a cute, fancy, penniless homeless man who was really into Raw food on a date.