The Date I’ll Never Forget: A Night to Remember for All the Wrong Reasons

It all started on a sunny Tuesday afternoon when I was browsing through the mystery section of my favorite local bookstore. That’s when I met Zachary. Our hands reached for the same novel, and we shared a laugh that sparked an instant connection. We talked about our favorite authors and stories, and before I knew it, he asked for my number. I was thrilled. Zachary was charming, witty, and shared my passion for books. We texted back and forth for a few days, and when he asked me out to dinner, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.

The day of the date arrived, and I was a bundle of nerves and excitement. I chose my outfit carefully, wanting to make a good impression. Zachary had picked a small Italian restaurant downtown, known for its cozy atmosphere and delicious food. I arrived a few minutes early, found our table, and waited for Zachary to arrive.

He was 20 minutes late. Not a great start, but I brushed it off, thinking maybe traffic was bad. When Zachary finally showed up, he barely apologized for his tardiness and seemed distracted. I tried to engage him in conversation, asking about his day and trying to reignite the spark from our first meeting. However, Zachary’s responses were short, and he spent more time looking at his phone than talking to me.

Trying to salvage the evening, I suggested we order. Zachary shrugged, barely glancing at the menu before deciding. The waiter, sensing the awkward tension, quickly took our orders and left us alone. I attempted to steer the conversation towards our shared love of books, but Zachary seemed more interested in discussing his ex-girlfriend, Nicole. He went on and on about their relationship, what went wrong, and how he wasn’t sure if he was truly over her. I sat there, stunned and uncomfortable, sipping my water and wishing I were anywhere but there.

The food arrived, and we ate mostly in silence. I had lost my appetite, picking at my pasta while Zachary devoured his meal, still glancing at his phone every few minutes. The evening dragged on, and I couldn’t wait for it to end. When the check came, Zachary made no move to pay, so I ended up covering the bill, eager to leave the disastrous date behind.

As we walked out of the restaurant, Zachary finally put his phone away and turned to me. “I had a great time,” he said, seemingly oblivious to the night’s events. “We should do this again.” I was speechless. How could he think the date went well? I mumbled something noncommittal and quickly said goodbye, walking away as fast as I could.

That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn’t help but replay the date in my mind. It was a night to remember, but for all the wrong reasons. I learned a valuable lesson about expectations and the importance of mutual respect and interest. I never saw Zachary again, and I was okay with that. Some dates are better left in the past, and this was definitely one of them.