I’ve always been a fan of great food, especially expensive, high quality food I couldn’t often afford, so dating a chef had always been an appealing idea. I just wasn’t sure how to meet one. I mentioned this one day to my friend Mary who worked for a high end, fancy hotel. Mary is the type of person who is blunt, to the point, and gets things done with no fear or shame. When she told me she would find me a single chef, I believed her. Sure enough, she called me a week later and told me she’d spoken to not just any chef, but the head chef at the hotel, who happened to be single. I was thrilled. Until she said, “but there is just this one thing…..” uh-oh. There always has to be a “but.” She told me he was a little on the older side. I asked her if by older she meant a few years ahead of me or had he gone to high school with my grandfather. She said she wasn’t sure, but if she had to guess, he might be 50.…possibly older. I told her I was past the “date someone old enough to be my father” phase and 50-ish was too old. She talked to me more about it, trying to change my mind over the next couple of weeks. She’d apparently told him all about me and he was dying to set up a date. He’d already left a message for me, to which I hadn’t yet responded. I explained to Mary I didn’t see the point in starting something that clearly wouldn’t go anywhere. She said he looked young for his age, expressed to me again what an exceptional chef he was, and mentioned that some of the staff had run into him on the beach while he was surfing (hmm, a surfer, that doesn’t sound like a grandfather.) They’d told her he had a great body and that he seemed so youthful and fun. Well, maybe I could give it a shot, I wouldn’t want “dating a chef” to end up on my bucket list.
I decided one night while I was pretty tipsy (always when I make my best decisions), that I would call him and tell him I’d love to meet for dinner. He sounded thrilled to hear from me and said he’d love to meet up. So we scheduled a date.
We decided to meet at a sushi restaurant he recommended. I started to get excited, thinking maybe this fancy chef who surfs, has a hot body, looks young, makes a great living, and can whip up a lobster dinner for me might just be a great thing. Maybe I’d been too judgmental about the situation. Then I saw him. Maybe not. We said hello and sat down. I had seen only one picture of him from his hotel’s website. He did not look like that picture. He wasn’t terrible looking, but his face had so many more wrinkles then the deceiving picture had shown, his hair looked like a small child had cut it using a weed whacker, and his teeth were a little too big for his mouth. But I was determined not to judge at first glance. I told myself the wrinkles were from all of the surfing he does. Then when I asked him about his surfing, he looked confused and said he’d never been on a surfboard in his life. Apparently the surfer chef was one of his employees. I wondered if that chef was single, while I silently cursed Mary for all of the misinformation. I decided to make the best of the situation. As we chatted I found out he had been divorced not just once, but three times, and had a child from each marriage. Wow. So at least he didn’t have any baggage. More sake please.
After 3 shared bottles of sake, a glass of wine, and a shot of tequila, I was actually enjoying my night with the old, divorced, funny haired chef. He asked if I wanted to continue the night at a nearby bar which had a live band. I said sure, why not. We talked more, drank more, danced a little, then went back to his apartment since it was right near by. He said he was going to use the restroom and would be right back. I sat on the bed which is the last thing I remember before the sake and tequila infused buzz took over.
The next thing I know I’m waking up in a bed, confused as to where I am. I’m fully clothed at least, and I’m laying on someone’s arm. It’s hard to remember who at first through my hazy hangover. Damn you tequila. I looked around and started to remember. Chef looked at me and smiled, and I asked what had happened. He said he came back from the restroom and I was out cold on the bed, so he just let me sleep. He said he wasn’t used to anyone sleeping in his bed, but it had been nice, and told me to rest while he went to get us muffins and coffee. He was wearing outdated looking glasses, and I watched him put on a ridiculous looking visor and Hawaiian shirt (which were both things my dad wore growing up) and as I listened to the 50’s music playing on his radio, I realized this just wasn’t going to work out. After he came back with coffee and muffins I said I needed to get going. He kissed me goodbye and told me how excited he was to spend time with me and said he couldn’t wait to see me again. I didn’t want to burst his bubble so I just smiled and said goodbye.
Chef called the next day to ask when I’d be free so he could make me dinner, and while tempted to see what amazing dish he’d whip up, I said I was busy all week. I figured I’d just slowly blow him off and he’d eventually get the hint. He didn’t let me off that easy. He called again the next evening and lured me in with the promise of a fancy homemade meal full of things like filet mignon, mussels, and homemade dessert. I finally agreed to dinner that weekend. I thought, why not get at least one great meal out of it before I move on. He did seem like a nice, normal man after all. That is until the next evening when he called again, and he seemed pretty intoxicated. He wasn’t making a whole lot of sense, he kept calling me baby and slurring , and was acting lovey-dovey and a bit too serious. I decided it would probably be best to cancel the “harmless” dinner date. While I tried to figure out how to get out of the date, he proceeded to not only call me often, but also email me as well. More often then not he seemed drunk and out of it. I realized this could quite possibly be the reason he’d been divorced 3 times. He may have been an amazing chef but, it seemed, a closet drunk as well.
After procrastinating until the morning of our date, I finally called to cancel. I told him I wasn’t feeling well and was so sorry I wouldn’t be able to make it. He seemed really disappointed and told me he understood and looked forward to rescheduling. He then called later to leave a long, drunken message telling me about the fancy dinner he’d had to eat alone, and mumbled some other things I couldn’t quite understand. After that I started avoiding his many calls, and he finally left a message one day saying, “Hey Parker. So if you don’t want to see me anymore, or if this isn’t working out for you, then just tell me. I mean, just call me and tell me. Let’s just be honest with each other here.” Be honest. O.k. You’re an old, thrice divorced drunk who has hair like a chia pet, teeth resembling a rabbit's, and you dress like my dad. You came on way to strong and you’re acting like we had a relationship even though it was only one date. One date, on which, I had to get liquored up in order to enjoy, and I can’t remember the end of the evening because I passed out on your bed. Oh, and since we’re being honest, I only agreed to go out with you, despite your age, because I’d been given false information and thought you were someone else who was supposed to be younger, hotter, and more fit. You should change the picture on your website because you don’t look like that anymore and most of the time I don’t understand what you’re saying because of all the slurring. That's what I wanted to say. What I actually said to him was that my life was very busy at the moment and if I had any free time in the future I’d let him know. He finally stopped calling after that, though Mary told me he’d ask about me from time to time. I heard recently that he is still single (shocker) and still seeking wife #4. I do still have an appetite for delicious food, but I decided it may be best to pay my compliments to the chef from afar.
