I recently went on a first date to a great place, Auction House, located at 2nd Avenue and 98thStreet on the Upper East Side. The atmosphere has a gothic, intimate, velvety feel and was ideal for cozy conversation. The delicious décor is refreshing and down to earth in comparison to most uppity joints I find on the UES, you know, the types of places swarming with men in La Coste shirts and investment- banker hungry women. The music is kept at a low, comfortable volume which allowed for an actual conversation free of sign language, charades and subsequent next-day sore throats, which struck me enough to exclaim to my first date, “Oh my Gosh! We might actually get to know each other!” ( My therapist tells me that shouldn’t be a novel feeling for me, which might highlight some serious issues in my dating habits.)Some of the unsettling artwork might make one go “Hmm,” and there was a moment, given the dark, spooky ambience, when I felt like I was in an amusement park’s haunted house, but I’d rather that than the awkwardness of fine dining with a first date or the obnoxious club scene where I constantly found myself getting dry humped by sweaty men in striped shirts on the dance floor. As the night ticked on and I downed one too many glasses of red wine, I half expected Scooby Doo and his gang to bust through the front door and unmask an antagonist, but who was I kidding? My life is way too unlucky to be blessed with such random awesomeness.
My date wasn’t so bad either. He was polite, polished and respectful, however he did do this one thing that nearly triggered my irritable bowel : He kept glancing at the front door every few minutes, which gave me the impression that a psycho, possessive ex or current girlfriend was going to storm through the door and attempt to kill me. I tried to control my alcohol consumption just in case I had to keep my reflexes sharp, go into “ninja” mode and fight off a jilted, pissed off lover. The anxiety brewing in my gut served as a reminder to me that eye contact is really important! So men and women, if you are on a date, just remember to LOOK at the person you’re on a date with, otherwise you may do something dangerous, like serve as the impetus to a diarrhea episode.
Also, personal hygiene habits shouldn’t be discussed on the first date. In fact, hygiene should NEVER really be discussed. It should be learned through observations as the relationship flourishes. I mean, if someone smells, you’ll eventually figure it out. You don’t have to ask, “So, do you wear deodorant?”
Anyhow, my date said he always notices a person’s teeth first and asked me how my teeth were. I furrowed, felt uncomfortable, but my autistic characteristics got the better of me, and I tried to answer the question honestly. I said I had braces as a kid, wore my head gear religiously, but had budding wisdom teeth that were causing my bottom half to shift. ( Immediately after speaking, I wanted to slap myself.) Then I mentioned that I drank a lot of coffee, to feed a dangerous caffeine addiction, so my teeth might be yellowish, but I just started brushing with “Go Smile” toothpaste and expected a turn around soon. ( Here, again, I slapped myself and started empathizing with all the women born and raised in West Virginia who get asked this question on first dates. Geez!)
He went on and dictated his daily, dental hygiene routine to me, and went so far as to describe the way he scraped his tongue with a tongue scraper. I mentioned I never scraped my tongue but did thoroughly brush it. He frowned. I felt inferior and drank more. I also didn't get a goodbye kiss. Hmm.
In short, pass on the “hygiene” chatter.
Auction House - Upper East Side
Written by: Erin Stair - SpeedNY Dating Resident Blogger
