I remember my very worst date like if it were yesterday; scratch that- two minutes ago. It was 24 December 2003. Christmas Eve. I remember the intense preparations- it was the year Topshop released the 8 inch skirt and back in the day when I had absolutely no hips I thought that I could just about get away with it with thick tights. I bought a brand new white sweater with bell sleeves in Peckham. And cowboy boots. I know, but give me a break. I was 20.
I knew I should have done a runner when my “date” explained that he had come all the way from Salford by hiding in the train toilets. I kid you not. I politely sat it out. I was asked where I wanted to eat and when I politely suggested that I would prefer if he decided, I was taken to the UK’s finest dining establishment- Burger King in Trafalgar Square (on reflection, at least it was the West End, I could have been taken to Elephant & Castle). As I moved to order a No 7 off the menu (chicken nuggets and fries), I was not so gingerly told by this paradigm of virtue that it would be best to confine my choice to either a Number 1 or a Number 2 (the Whopper or the Fish Sandwich) because those were the only two options that were available on the BOGOF deal on our NUS card. Needless to say, this “gentleman” never saw me again. I am proud to say that I have never again encountered such a creature who serves as the ultimate example of tight fisted parsimoniousness. Although it has been close shave. When still a student, and again, before I gained sense, I offered to pay on a date someone who had a full time job. That offer was taken up with a greater alacrity than Usain Bolt with Tyson Gay sprinting behind him. No second date either I have to add.
These two experiences, and particularly the first, have scarred my outlook on my life. It has led me to the firm conclusion that if a man isn’t willing to provide a treat for me on at least the first few dates, at the first opportunity he has to impress me, chances are he won’t try to do it for the duration of any relationship that we may have. So he gets a big fat 0 and I spare myself the agony.
My hypothesis is that the Modern Man has lost all concept of the fact that a date is a treat and that dating is a ritual. The Modern Man seems to have the deluded idea that all women are gold-diggers who are after their money and leap on opportunities to go out on a date just to have a free meal- never mind that they have no money to speak of in the first place, never mind they still live with their mothers in a flat in East London and travel to work in their George by Asda suits on the 58 bus, never mind that if you were really “gold-digging” you wouldn’t give their tired and broke asses the time of day and would focus on where the real ballers are -Chelsea, Kensington & Mayfair, never mind you have food in your own fridge at home and would happily curl up with Grazia in front of Eastenders. So instead of thinking themselves lucky, as they should, that you decided to give their trifling selves the time of day, they wait, with bated breath at the end of the meal for you to say “Let’s split it”. They argue, it’s only polite, you should at least offer. Fact is, I do, but the speed with which these degenerates leap at the offer, you would think that the chance to save 10 measly squid at Nando’s meant hitting the jackpot. I do offer, but it is part of my psychometric testing. You say yes, or you hesitate over saying no, and it’s over before it has even started.
Why? Because I shouldn’t. I won’t because if you asked me on a date, you are saying to me that you would like to have the pleasure of my company. I shouldn’t because let’s get it straight, I don’t need a guy to take me to a restaurant, but the fact that you are doing so allows you to be a gentleman. I shouldn’t because you asked me out, and I have probably spent hundreds on a new dress/skirt/top trying to impress you, so why shouldn’t you try to impress me? Why should I rob you of this very essence of the dating ritual? Why should I offer to emasculate you? Any man should wish to feel strong, necessary and capable.
Thinking about it, isn’t there something very unseemly about calculating who ordered the steak and who ordered the fish after the peaceful ambience of a romantic meal? Even if a woman decides to go halves, doesn’t it ruin the essence of the dating ritual of man cast in his first role as provider? Truth is, we can all afford that meal ourselves, so proudly and confidently taking up the tab is still a symbolic way to say that that you value our time and our company. There is something to be said for being independent women- we pay our own bills, we pay our own mortgage, we drive our own cars, isn’t it just one step too far in the wrong direction to expect us to offer to pay for our own dates as well? Its not about the price, it is about the gesture. And yes, if you genuinely cannot afford it, offer to cook us a meal, make a picnic, be innovative- that goes a long way.
Just like refusing to give up their seats to pregnant women on the bus, or to any women in general, the Modern London man loves to justify his tightness by reference to the suffragette movement and equal rights, claiming that we wanted to go 50s on all in life. No we don’t, because that’s just not how it is. You still get to have sex. We push out the babies. You go food shopping and come back with half of what’s on the list. We have to do it again. We have periods, pre-menstrual cramps, bloating- you don’t. And you still, on average, earn more money than we do for the same jobs. We still take your names. Most men I know who split the bill are serial daters, they cannot afford not to go halfsies when they had to foot the bill the last few times.
I am not saying that once a relationship is established, that a woman should never pay. In fact the late Jackie Kennedy said she would never pay until she established a man as a serious prospect. My argument is that by then, it isn’t really a date. It’s going out with your other half –it’s your partner, you are a team. I am not saying also, that I would never offer to take a guy somewhere. In fact, I often do, after the second date. I would suggest somewhere nice and I would take care of the bill, if he has shown me that he is charming, friendly, and funny- and if he had on previous occasions unwaveringly picked up the bill. Goodbye cheapskates.
