The 19th President of the United States

In an effort to live a normal life, I went out on a date. I don't know what I was thinking. Dating is the opposite of normal.

I met Rutherford at the West Kowloon Waterfront Promenade. Rutherford is not really his name, obviously. How many Rutherford's have you met? I'm calling him that because he looks far too much like a younger, pre-Civil War Rutherford Hayes, which is absolutely nothing like older Rutherford Hayes. During the Civil War, all men were dared to grow giant beards. Hayes must have taken it as a personal challenge.

Lily and I were taking a walk along the promenade when young Rutherford approached us. When you are with Lily, you get used to strange men starting conversations. She's a looker and men always want to see more. She has plenty of experience with this and knows how to turn them down gently. What surprised both of us was that Rutherford was clearly interested in me. I have far less experience than Lily, but I know how to turn men down. Maybe 90% of men who have ever showed any interest in me did so while I had a boyfriend. I had no boyfriend when Rutherford came to talk to us, but I was wearing running clothes and my Winnipeg toque, and trying to recover my stamina after brain surgery. Dating was not on the agenda. So Lily took charge, as she is wont to do.

Lily got his phone number and encouraged me to call him. She thought he was cute enough for a one night stand, but knowing that I don't do one night stands, she thought getting to know someone new could not hurt. He was American, so she reasoned that we would have something to talk about. Sometimes Lily underestimates how much Americans tend to hate each other. One stray comment about religion or politics and you have a sworn enemy for life. I was hesitant to call, for a variety of reasons, but I knew she would not let up until I did what she wanted. I called him and we agreed to go out to dinner.

Rutherford and I met up at Curry Leaf, an Indian restaurant in Jordan. No one ever picks anyone up in Hong Kong. It's not that kind of town. Everyone meets each other somewhere. In suburbia, you pick up your date and go into town. In a city of a few million people, you might live on opposite sides of wherever you are going. Meeting someplace just makes more sense. I would not want a first date to know where I live anyway.

Although Rutherford picked the restaurant, he immediately complained that it did not look authentic enough. It looked like a million Hong Kong restaurants to me, but he wanted it to look like we were in India.

“I've been to Chennai,” he announced. “I know how it's supposed to look.”

“Ok,” I replied. “But this is Hong Kong. Have you ever seen an American restaurant here that actually looks American? Why would an Indian restaurant actually look Indian?”

That must not have been what he wanted to hear. He seemed determined to complain.

The food morally offended him. Everything on the menu had Indian names, but nothing was authentically Indian, as far as he was concerned. I have never been to India, so I don't know, but I am pretty sure that someone who spent a week in one city is not an expert. Predictably, nothing he ate that night was proper Indian food. I could not taste anything, so I have no idea if it was any good or not, but it looked good. Was it 100% authentic Indian? Probably not. If they want to make money in Hong Kong, it's probably closer to the British version of Indian with a healthy dose of Chinese Indian. No restaurant in China is 100% anything, except Chinese.

It might sound like the complaining was what broke the camel's back on this date, but I'm more than aware that everyone can have an off night. I don't really care if a restaurant in Hong Kong does not remind people of India, so I had no reason to argue or agree with him. He ruined the night when he insisted that I take off my hat.

The first time he saw me, on the promenade, I was wearing a toque. Lily and I were in exercise clothes and we were clearly walking around for exercise. On our date, I was wearing a different toque. With the hat on, you can't tell if I have short hair or if I put my hair up. He was curious, which is understandable, but would not take let it go for an answer. I did not want to get into the whole brain surgery thing on a first date. I think if I did that, it would dominate the evening. It took over my life for a long time and I am trying to take it back. A date should be one of those times when I can get away from it and think about something else. But by not explaining why I did not want to remove my hat, he got caught up in the mystery. Had he asked me a couple of times to take the hat off and then dropped it, we could have moved on. Instead, he quickly obsessed over my hair.

Here is a public service announcement to all men all over the world: Women generally do not like it when a man they met five minutes ago insists that she take off an article of clothing on command. No means no.

The only thing that got him off the subject was the arrival of our food. For appetizers, he got samosas and I got the dahi kebab, which he quickly pointed out cost twice as much. I always intended on paying for myself, but I thought it was tacky of him to quote the prices. He never pointed out that the rest of his meal was almost three times the price of mine. His bhuna ghosht was more than twice my aloo baingan masala. He also got some boondi raita on the side and an expensive fruit drink while I just had tea.

We both had bread that was essentially the same price, but he had a comment about my choice anyway.

“You should never order garlic naan on a date,” he told me. “No one wants to kiss a girl who just ate garlic.”

“Fortunately, that won't be an issue tonight,” I replied.

After dinner, he wanted to go to one of the pubs down the street. I told him I'm not a drinker, which is true, but I never pointed out that I was tired and ready to go home. He would have assumed it was because of him, when he was only half the reason. Had he suggested something else, I might have been open, but he had his heart set on overpriced drinks at some trendy bar. The restaurant was where we parted ways.

The next day, I got a text message. “Cant w8 2cu again no hats this time ok”

I was going to just ignore him, but instead, I sent my own message. “I'll make you a deal. We can have a second date if you wear a hat.”

That was a mistake. His next dozen unanswered messages went on and on about why I was completely unreasonable for not taking off my hat. Eventually, Lily sent him a message wondering out loud how many hats he could shove up his ass. He never replied.

I suppose I could have just told him why I was wearing the hat in the first place, but why should that not be up to me? Do I really need to explain to someone I do not even know why I'm wearing a hat? If your date will not take off her hat, is it really that important? Call me old fashioned, but I think you should get to know someone before you try to act that controlling.

Rutherford will never know why we never had a second date. When he tells his friends his side of the story, it will be one of those “bitches be crazy” excuses.