If you know me the slightest bit well, you know I’m single. In fact, I’ve been single for so long that when my journalism class wanted to do an article for valentines day and make one of us go on a blind date, I hopped on that train faster than you could say “lonely.”
It took some time for this article’s “producer”, Ethan Haque, to find me a date. Many people said no to the idea, which certainly didn’t make me feel great, but Ethan, with the assistance of fellow classmates, Danielle Babineau and Jaden Muller, finally found me a date. I was completely oblivious to who this secret person was.
The date was set for 6:30 PM on Friday night at the Haque household. A luxurious dinner would be served by my “personal chef”, Ethan Haque, which I thought would be a good look for my date. Danielle Babineau and Jaden Muller would be the servers for the evening, delivering, bussing, and refilling.
So the date was planned, I got home from Lacrosse practice, spiffied up, dressed up in slacks, a white collared shirt, and a formal jacket. I thought this would be a good touch to look nice for my date, “’Cause every girl crazy ’bout a sharp dressed man”-ZZ Top.
So there I was, sitting in the Ethan Haques dining room, blindfolded, awaiting my unknown guest. However, this is where the first mistake happened- not from me however. Ethan walked through his sliding glass door and said, “Guys, Gabbi’s almost here…” I could hear the slap of Ethan’s hand covering his mouth as he had just given away the first name of the secret person, “Gabbi”. Not to mention Danielle and Jaden yelling at him for doing the one thing he shouldn’t have.
However, the surprise was not completely lost for me. This because, I know of two Gabbis’, so it turned into a fifty-fifty chance of which one it would be. The coin flip chance was answered, when my date arrived, and I was unblindfolded to see none other than Gabbi Hoopes, a senior at Mission Viejo high School.
I knew Gabbi before this night, for we have known of each other since elementary school and so on, however we had never talked much through all this time.
All first dates have some amount of awkwardness to them. Forced smiles, hug or no hug, maybe starting a conversation, however, the awkwardness for this date only lasted for about a minute. Perhaps it was because I had a list of questions for her, as if she was being interviewed for the paper (which she kind of was), but once I got my first question, “what’s your favorite movie”, and she answered, “I really like the Grand Budapest Hotel.”
From there I never had to refer back to my list, conversation flowed like milk does from the carton. We talked about future aspirations, Mexican restaurants in Utah, assuming political views based off of appearance, and so much more.
Ethan prepared a starter of Hummus, Pita chips, and strawberries, which although looked delightful, neither of us cared for hummus and the appetizer went to waste. But there is something important in agreeing to dislike food. At that point Gabbi and I had something in common; we didn’t like hummus. A bond was forming.
After, the main course was served. Mastro’s could not have served a better looking steak, with a sweet potato, regular potato, and asparagus, drizzled with butter sauce. The steak tasted even better than it looked, cooked to perfection, great taste, and those nice little grill marks that seal the deal.
Although things were going well, they were about to go up in flames; literally. Gabbi and I were talking and eating, when a multitude of screams and yells erupted from the kitchen. Gabbi and I looked at each other and decided to inspect what was going on.
“The pie is on fire!”, screamed Jaden Muller. Ethan haque with oven mitts was running out the slide glass door, to allow the smoke to escape the kitchen, and proceeding to grab the dog bowl to put the fire out. As this was happening all so very fast, Jaden and Danielle informed us that they had everything under control and that we should continue to dine in the next room.
So we tried to do just that, however it was fairly hard to concentrate on eachother, while yells of fear, fury, and accusations were being echoed across the Haque household from the kitchen.
If one thing is for sure, I certainly will not be hiring them as waitresses from here on out, and I would say the same for Mr. Haque, but the steak was too good to take such actions.
In my opinion, the rest of the date went well, our conversation flowed from “racist family members”, to “favorite classical composer”, and we were able to agree and respectfully disagree on some areas too.
Dinner commenced, we hung out for a little bit, but eventually said our goodbyes for the evening. After the first date’s goodbyes both members respectively can either feel distaste for the time they spent together or know there is perhaps potential for a relationship, or somewhere in between.
I think it’s fair to say I didn’t feel bad one bit after I closed the door, and actually felt refreshed from the night’s events.
Days after the date, Gabbi was asked what her favorite part of the date was, she said, “When we talked about movies and stuff.” And when asked if she would go out again she answered, “Possibly”. (At this point ‘possibly’ is pretty good news for me)
So, was this the date that would change my life forever? Well, probably not, but perhaps the next one may be. I felt this date served my soul well, in that it gave me a good time with a member of the opposite gender, which frankly had been missing for some time.
