Tonight I had a date with a PhD-holding Angeleno who was in town for interivews. It was an exciting time because I haven’t had a date with a smart person my age in a very, very long time. As expected, the conversation flowed. The beer didn’t.
He requested that we meet at a pub, so I recommended a local microbrewery near his hotel. Imagine my horror when I walked up and he was drinking Budweiser. WTF. You are smart. Surely you can pick a fine local draft with better flavor. We continued to chatter and when he finished his first, the waitress asked if he’d like another. ”No, I have to leave at 5,” he replied. Of course, I ordered a second brown ale and calimari because I’m a whore for draft beer and good bar food. And I thought, you know, this was a date.
At 4:55 p.m., he tossed a 20 dollar bill on the table and got up, hugged me, and said he had to get going to prep for his interviews. I thanked him and told him I was going to stay to finish my beer. I did that, checked my email, checked-in to Foursquare, and made sure the waitress was tipped. I then walked home in the other direction so I could walk by a few shops on State Street before closing.
Imagine my surprise when Mr. Interview Prep walked up behind me and passed me. No hi, no nothing. He had a fast stride and was walking like he was late. I followed him until he turned in to another bar. I’m all about maximizing time and speed dating, but if it had been me, I would of scheduled the dates farther apart and certainly found bars closer together.
Not so smart after all. But the Bud was the giveaway.