“I see the good in people. I see what’s special about them and they become special to me. Take you for example,” I gestured toward him. “You are now special to me because I’m getting to know you.” He stood silently for a moment and then quietly and calmly responded, “Yeah. You’re not that special.”…
Mr. Special was introduced to me by a friend. We’re no longer friends. Not even Facebook friends. He is dead to me.
(I’m kidding. One year ago I asked my friends not to give me anything for Christmas. Instead I wanted them to set me up on one date. This was the only friend who followed through. True, it was a disaster, but he made the effort. The rest of you—you know who you are—you owe me a double big present this year.)
Mr. Special was handsome and highly intellectual. He had a knack for remembering (and spouting) odd, random facts, which, fortunately for him, I find funny. Unfortunately for both of us, however, he did not have a very high self-esteem and spent a lot of time talking me out of him. He told me he was friendless and boring. He described in great detail his mother’s shaky mental state (as if to say, “if you have a kid with me, he’ll be nuts”). And he was adamant that I understand just how “cheap” he was. He used the word himself. On our first date, he took me to the museum “because it’s free.” While we toured he explained that he was intent on saving every penny.
At first, I wasn’t concerned about the miserliness. I respect a man who watches his money. I too am not convinced of the longevity of the social security system. But he wouldn’t let it go. He wanted to prove his incredible cheapness. So he asked me to lunch and took me his favorite restaurant in town—the place, he said, where you could get the most food for the least money.
It was a tiny, ramshackle building with a counter and four dirty tables where they serve tortas—Mexican sandwiches—for $2 a piece. The term “hole-in-the-wall” has come to mean a small, often family-owned restaurant where you aren’t required to don the latest trends or valet your car. I love holes-in-the-wall like those. This, however, was quite literally a hole.
The torta he purchased for me consisted of shaved iceberg lettuce and mystery bologna-style meat between two buns. I choked down half of it. He ate his greedily and then finished off mine. I could see the wheels turning in his head… “So far, I’ve spent $0.50 cents on gas and $1 on food for her. I’ll put it in Quicken under ‘Date’.”
Yes, as you predicted, I gave him another shot. I went on a second date with him. This time I chose the restaurant. We drank good wine, ate good food and shared some good conversation, until the topic turned to the state of U.S. current events. His low self-esteem seemed to be trumped only by his even lower esteem for the United States.
No, I don’t think the U.S. is perfect. I’m afraid our international reputation for self-interested over-indulgence and ignorance is not entirely unfounded. However, for the most part, I think I live in the best country in the world and I thank my lucky stars that I was born here. So, I can bash on the U.S. only so long before my hackles raise and I feel compelled to defend it like a sister who feels free to torment her little brother but won’t allow anyone else to lay a hand on him.
About that time the check came. It sat on the table between us. Nobody moved. The waitress came back twice to see if the telltale plastic square was sticking out of it before Mr. Special pushed it toward me and said, “You chose the restaurant. You get the bill.” I paid. I tipped 20% and let him watch.
On the way to the car he asked me why I have such a high opinion of everyone. It was sort of out of the blue, but he had a point. As we’ve proven time and again on this blog, I don’t just give people the benefit of the doubt, I take the doubt, set it on fire and throw it out the window.
I tried to explain it to him but I couldn’t seem to get my point across. “What I mean is that I tend to see the good in people. I see what’s special about them and they become special to me. Take you for example,” I gestured toward him. “You are now special to me because I’m getting to know you.” He stood silently for a moment and I thought perhaps he’d understood me. Until he quietly and calmly responded, “Yeah. You’re not that special.”