How Not to Impress Your First Date

Before Tinder and Bumble, there was eHarmony, the self-proclaimed love guru that matched souls based on compatibility algorithms. Nearly two years had passed since my divorce, and I felt ready to re-enter the dating scene. So, I joined eHarmony. Starting with the free plan, I quickly saw the potential and upgraded to premium— and that’s when I met Hannah.

Hannah, a quiet girl from Connecticut, spoke little and was not one to engage in lengthy conversations, often leaving our interactions limited to online chats. Seeking to bridge this gap, I proposed meeting in person, which she gladly agreed to. Since Connecticut was a two-and-a-half-hour drive away, I suggested meeting halfway. However, when Hannah mentioned she didn’t have her own transportation, I took it upon myself to drive up to Connecticut. After all, who doesn’t love a spontaneous road trip?

She invited me to her apartment, which initially gave me pause, considering my conservative upbringing in India. But then I shrugged off my reservations and thought, why not? After all, fortune favors the bold, right?”

I arrived at her place around 4 PM, with the intention of returning to New Jersey after a couple of hours together. She brewed some coffee, and we engaged in the typical banter of a first date. By 6 PM, I felt it was time to head back.

“I think I should head home now; otherwise, I’ll be getting back too late. It’s quite a drive,” I mentioned.

“Oh, you’re right,” she acknowledged.

As I gathered my belongings, she interrupted, “Why don’t you stay the night and head out in the morning? We could order dinner and binge-watch Netflix.”

Relieved at the idea of skipping the long drive home, I readily accepted her proposal. After a few more minutes of conversation, she turned on Netflix. However, the movie turned out to be dreadfully dull, leaving us at a loss for what to watch. With our first date conversation topics exhausted, I decided to fill the silence by delving into my latest obsession: the doomsday!

“Have you heard about the Mayan calendar?” I asked.

“No, what is it?” she inquired curiously.

That was all I needed to start talking.

“Well, the ancient Mayans developed this long count calendar thousands of years ago. They were proficient in astronomy, and their calendar resets on December 21 of this year. This marks the end of the 13th b’ak’tun, which is considered the end of a major cycle and the beginning of a new one. Some people believe this signifies the end of the world, the doomsday. I’ve prepared for doomsday by stocking up on food supplies and all sorts of survival gadgets, from primitive to advanced. I’ve even instructed my father to do the same, including applying for a gun license.”

I went on and on, noticing she had started yawning, but that didn’t deter me from sharing my extensive knowledge on the subject I was so passionate about. It was my latest fascination in my playground of curiosities.

“I suggest you also stock up on supplies and buy some essential gadgets. And don’t forget to invest in gold—it will skyrocket because of the panic and fear, and…”

“It’s getting pretty late, and I have to meet my family in the morning. Shall we call it a night?” she interjected, mercilessly bringing my monologue to an end.

And just like that, I was hit with a wave of déjà vu, remembering a similar blunder with a Holiday Inn receptionist in California. With no hope of redemption, I could only mutter, “Sure thing. Let’s call it a night.”

So, off I went to the guest room and bolted the very next morning.

“When a girl rolls out the red carpet to her apartment on the first date and practically sends you an engraved invitation to spend the night, are you a certified numbskull not to read the signs, bro?” That’s the golden nugget of wisdom my pal David, the dating guru extraordinaire, dropped when I shared the saga of my inaugural post-divorce date with him.