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This is the date I went on when I realized chivalry is dead.
Craig and I matched on JDate shortly after my post-winter hibernation ended and I decided to get back into the game. By the end of this evening, I would be totally convinced that chivalry is dead.
Craig invited me to have dinner at a charming spot in my favorite part of town. Typically I prefer to limit an inaugural meeting to drinks so I can decide whether or not I will have the ability to withstand the duration of an entire meal with someone, but I had a good feeling about this guy in particular.
Off to dinner, I went.
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It started off well, and Craig seemed nice. At first.
Craig and I had a delightfully pleasant evening as we feasted upon oxtail empanadas, seafood paella and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon followed by a pair of espresso martinis.
The conversation was relatively enjoyable, and we decided to continue our evening at a quiet wine bar in SoHo.
Craig flagged the waitress down and requested she bring the check.
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We split the bill for dinner, and moved onto a wine bar for some drinks...
"So I hope you don't mind, but I prefer we go Dutch," he said.
"Oh, yeah. That's no problem," I replied.
After splitting the tab we arrived at the wine bar and ordered a bottle of Pinot Noir and a brownie sundae. Craig then excused himself to use the men's room and the bartender asked to hold my credit card in order to open a tab.
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Where he expected me to foot the whole bill.
I relinquished my Visa thinking Craig and I would again split the bill when presented.
After the last drop had been consumed I was ready to call it a night. I told Craig to grab the check and I excused myself to use the facilities.
When I returned, the black check holder was sitting there waiting for me to sign the receipt. I looked at the bill and the $62 bottle of wine, as well as our dessert, was put entirely on my credit card.
"So, are we not going Dutch on this one?" I said.
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He just about agreed to cover the tip...barely!
"Oh, you just said to grab the check, and I just told him to run the card he had. I forgot it was yours. How about I get the tip?"
Craig reached into his wallet and pulled out a disheveled one-dollar bill and a few dimes and nickels from the pocket of his khakis which were covered in lint and Kleenex residue. He then put the dollar back into his pocket, leaving only the change behind.
Being a former service industry worker myself I was slightly disgusted by this, as I know how servers/bartenders make incredibly low wages and depend entirely on tips.
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Turned out, tipping wasn't a principle he believed it.
I dug into my purse and thankfully found a $10 bill and a few singles to leave for the service.
"14 bucks? It's not like he had to do much work to just open a bottle and hand us a bowl of ice cream."
"Yes, but we still took up his seats at a busy bar. I used to be a bartender and I would be miffed. And ya know…karma," I said.
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After I recovered from my shock, he went in for a kiss. I declined.
"I just don't think we should be responsible for paying their salary. It's not my fault the restaurant industry pays their employees shit," he responded.
…it's not theirs either, boo.
I followed Craig outside and we bid each other farewell.
Craig went in for a kiss, but I gave him the 'ol head turn and offered only my cheek in return.
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Then, he hailed himself a cab and left me on a dark street corner. Excellent.
After a slightly awkward moment, he put his hand up to hail a cab.
As he opened the door to the car I went to get in, thinking that he had hailed it for me.
NOPE.
Craig hopped right in and left me on the dark street corner.
How chivalrous.
Craig's text the following day was ignored and he was never to be seen again.
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