I discovered a kind of charming local quirk today. Apparently the person who donated the land for Greely Park to the city of Nashua stipulated that no money could be exchanged on the grounds. At the “Art in the Park” event today, I discovered that in order to buy a set of postcards from an artist, we had to walk down to the sidewalk to make the transaction. I thought that was funny.

So anyway, DinnerDate4Eight was kind of a bust. I haven’t written it off as a total bust yet, but it could still happen. So there is a bust involved, but the size of said bust has yet to be determined.

Let’s start with a little math, shall we?
5 = the number of months I had to wait for this dinner.
5 = the number of people who attended this dinner.
DinnerDate4Eight = a total fucking misnomer.

I’m doing my best to be nice about it because the people (person?) who represent (own?) DinnerDate4Eight have been kind in their correspondences and, faced with truthful criticism, have offered me a second dinner date for (possibly up to) 8 at no charge.

But round one went like this: I got the e-mail stating that a dinner was going to happen. I didn’t jump for joy. I didn’t give a sigh of relief. Frankly, I didn’t believe them. I was beginning to think they were just fucking with me. But, I responded right away with a resounding, “Sure, whatever.”

They got back to me quickly with all the information this time. We would meet on Monday evening. Tapas was on the menu. I was feeling- wait, what the hell’s “tapas?”

Wikipedia (“Where Our Facts Might Be True”): Tapas is actually of Spanish origin, really just the way food is served; small portions so one can eat light, mix and match, or try different dishes.

Well, I get all dolled up and head on down to a place right off Main Street which I won’t mention because I don’t have many nice things to say. It was classy and clean, modern and gourmet. However, it was pricey and the wait staff didn’t seem to have the whole “Bring people food,” routine down.

I was the first to arrive, giving me a chance to meet with the DinnerDate4Eight representative who was waiting there to introduce us all to each other. Conversation with the rep was light and introductory; I danced around the topic of the 5 month wait, hinting gingerly that I was displeased, but otherwise glad to be there now. It was kind of a tough topic to approach politely, “I’ve been waiting five months, you jerk! This ‘tapas’ shit better be awesome!”

The other attendees trickled in, first one, then two more, then one more, then… then… that was it. We were eventually seated at a table set for six. Missing was the sixth guest, “Heather.” “Heather,” was a “person” who apparently responded to the email, but disappeared on the night of the dinner. I have my doubts that “Heather,” was for real. But, I’ll keep my conspiracy theories to myself for now.

So there we were, three men, two women, having a dinner date for eight. Food was brought to each of us one plate at a time, as it was ready, for some reason. By the time the last person got their food, the first person’s dish was cold. The dishes were tasty, but appetizer-sized, which was both good and bad because (good) I only wanted to eat light, and it did give us an opportunity to share, although no one did, but (bad) because each dish was the price of a full meal and also (good/bad) it all gave me indigestion later, so I’m glad I didn’t eat more.

The conversation bounced around a multitude of topics. Throughout the evening we discussed careers, hobbies, books, and politics (which is where I spaced out and started feeling gassy). I don’t know that any of us made a “connection,” in the personal sense, but I think we all viewed this for what it was: an introduction and an excuse to get out and just do something.

I’ll admit I was quite smitten by one (of the two) of our female guests. When one of the male guest left early (claiming stomach trouble, but likely not happy with the outcome of this whole thing, can’t blame him), I wondered if I might be paying more attention to me, or if it was just a lack of options.

When we four had felt the evening was winding to a close, we made our way out of the now empty restaurant. Someone had suggested that we all exchange numbers; the dinner had been pleasant enough that it might be worthwhile to gather together again sometime without the signup fee and the five month wait. I began searching my pockets for paper and a writing implement. I didn’t care if I had to write in blood, SOMEONE was leaving here with my number tonight. The most efficient route was chosen; we gave our contact information to one person who promised to e-mail the info to each of us first thing the next morning (note from future self: that person lied).

Any number of circumstances could have led to that person not e-mailing everyone’s contact information to me. Perhaps they forgot, or they lost the paper, or maybe after we went our separate ways the other two people caught up with that person and said, “Can you do me a favor and don’t give that information to Jon?” Anything can happen.

So that’s it. DinnerDate4Five. ExpensiveMeal4One. PhoneNumbersFromEverybody. NoNumbersForJon.

Personally, I think it’s pretty funny.