BAD DATES

My Lunch with a Clean Freak

Long before the pandemic, I met a woman who loved hand-sanitizer

In honor of Valentine's Day, here's a recollection that explains, at least partially, why many of us are happily single.

A decade or so ago, I used an Internet dating site— can't remember which one — and I connected with an attractive woman who was around my age — middle-aged.

We didn't work far from each other and agreed to meet for lunch at a sub shop on a weekday.

It was supposed to be a very-casual-low-key-get-to-know-you-buy-your-own-lunch kind of meet up. My goal was always to keep these first face-to-face meetings as stress-free as possible after having too many uncomfortable and unpleasant first dates.

What made this "date" so memorable was how normal and uneventful it was until the time came to leave…

Togo's Sandwich Shop is basically a fast-food place that serves subs on ceramic dinner plates on plastic trays. So when you're done eating, you discard all your​ wrappings in a trash can inside the place and stack your plate and your tray nearby.

My date accidentally tossed her plate into the trash can and then turned to me and said, "Oops, look what I've done!"

As an expert in simple solutions, I suggested without an attitude but with a bit of bemusement, "Just pull it out."

She shook her head no. I laughed, thinking she was joking. But when it became apparent she wasn't going to retrieve the plate, which was just inches away, I thought, "Is this some kind of chivalry test?"

Ever the gallant knight, I went for it. I lifted the lid and pulled out the plastic tray that was at the top of a heap of a bunch of used sandwich wrappers and paper cups.

For garbage, it was a relatively "clean" experience. Literally, it was two seconds and no effort to do this task. I was confident that I aced the test.

When I stacked the now salvaged plate and turned back to face my date, expecting a "Thank you, brave, sir!" — she was digging through her purse, saying, "You have to sanitize your hands."

"Nah, I only touched the plate. Your plate," I said.

"No, you have to wash them," she said.

Then she produced a bottle of hand sanitizer and insisted that I use it. So I did as I was told while wondering what happened to the person I had just shared a picnic table with.

As we parted a few moments later — knowing that I would never see this germaphobe again — I extended my hand and said, "Well, it was nice meeting you."

My date's face was now a map of anguish. Clearly, she was torn, but after an uncomfortably awkward pause, she relented and shook my fingers — just the tips — as daintily as she could and hurried off.

I hope this woman found someone to be super-clean with. But if she didn't, I hope she's enjoying these ultra-paranoid-pandemic times of face masks, social distancing, and omnipresent Purell dispensers.