8/06/22: Sympathy Date
On Valentine’s Day, Hannah picked a Michelin star restaurant in town, made a reservation for two, and went by herself.
She wore her best dress, and picked up a bouquet of nice roses on the way there.
“He’ll be here in a few,” she said to the waiter, waving away the menu. She set the roses down by the side.
After a few minutes, she ordered a bottle of the second most expensive champagne on the menu, and had it sit on ice by the table.
She sat straight, and expectantly. She did not browse on her phone to pass the time. At the fifteen minute mark, she allowed herself to be seen checking her phone once, before putting it away with no expression.
At the twenty minute mark, she brought out a ring box and started playing with it on the table.
At the twenty five minute mark it was apparent to everyone that her companion was not showing up. She made a phone call, exactly once, which went to voicemail.
“I’m so sorry to have been rude,” she said to the waiter. I’ll take a look at the menu.”
When she ordered her food (air-brushed Hosanian swordfish, what Onion Hunter Review called “the most creative dish to grace LA in the last decade”) she apologized to the server again and asked to send back the champagne and replace it with a single glass of red.
“I do apologize,” she said. “I just don’t want it to go to waste. I’m of course happy to pay for it if necessary.” She was impeccably polite to the server. That was always important. She did allow a hint of sadness to wrinkle her face.
When her food arrived, a handsomely dressed man sat down as well. The server placed a plate with steak in front of him, then left without comment.
“We both know that your partner isn’t coming,” the man said. “The Restaurant sent me to keep you company, since otherwise this is just going to be sad for everyone. According to their matchmaker oracle, there’s 89% chance that we’re compatible and can have a fulfilling and happy lifelong relationship.”
“What…”
“Sorry, I have to finish the prompt they gave me.” He glanced down at a card he was holding. “There is a woman with a similar compatibility index in reserve, in case that’s more your partner preference. If at the end of this meal you are still feeling melancholic and would like to never see me again, the Restaurant of course will comp your entire meal, and give its sympathies on your presumed unsuccessful proposal attempt.”
He cleared his throat.
“Okay, that’s the end of the card. Everything else is just me now.”
Hannah sat in silence for a second. “Well-played, Restaurant.”
“Yeah, this is not their first rodeo. Is there even a ring in that box?”
“Of course, there’s a perfectly serviceable engagement ring from my grandmother in there, excuse you.”
He chuckled. “And this charade, does it usually work?”
“If there was a charade - and I’m not saying there is - then I would be five for five, thank you very much. People feel bad for an attractive lady who gets stood up, who’s also confident enough to propose no less.”
“That’s a lot of free good meals over the years.”
“I have good taste.”
The man smiled. It was a cute smile.
“I’m Mark by the way. Nice to meet you.”
“Hannah, and likewise. I suppose we should both dig in.”