A date with destiny? I’ll take dessert

I learned firsthand there would be two types of emotions running through my veins on a first date: excitement and nervousness. On one hand my biggest goal would be trying to stay calm, while on the other, I’d think I was going to collapse on the floor right in front of my date.

As the designated time of a date approached, my insecurities would start to get the better of me. Was the blue shirt I wore too mellow? Would my lack of knowledge of classical music be a disability? What if my accent made me sound incomprehensible? I would move from sheer excitement to regret that I had ever said yes in the first place.

We first met at the local coffee shop in my neighborhood when I was at school in Cincinnati. I was working on a school project with a group of classmates. He was a classical music student at the same school who had dropped by to grab a drink before class. It wasn’t some sort of romantic movie-esque magical moment — our introduction manifested through a mutual friend. But we had an immediate connection, and he asked me out to dinner.

A date is an experiment in risk-taking and believing in possibilities. Those were wise words of advice from my closest friend as she tried to assuage my fears. Despite my unsteady state of emotional turmoil, I heeded her advice and made my way to the restaurant in Hyde Park, where our dinner date was to be.

Even in spring, Cincinnati has a reputation of staying pretty cold and windy, and this day was no exception. In addition to my usual winter gear, I’d wrapped my neck with a thick woolen scarf, and a hat covered most of my face. I prayed we wouldn’t run into each other outside the restaurant in the parking lot. This was not the way I wanted him to see me. (Dressing practically and attractively rarely go hand in hand.) Thankfully, luck was on my side. I got to the restaurant a few minutes before and waited.

My date arrived on time, which I took to be a good omen. We sat down, exchanged the typical conversations about school, the cold weather and traffic. We ordered a few things and continued to talk, just like most couples on a first date who are trying to amass information without coming across as intrusive.

I found myself at ease as we spoke. The intense nervousness I had felt started to subside. But as dinner progressed, I learned that he had an absolute dislike of fruits and desserts. I quickly understood that I would have to forgo the final part of our dinner, even though the dessert menu had a lemon cake that I craved. So, feigning a shared dislike for all things sweet, I declined dessert. I regretted it instantly and went home that evening imagining what that lemon cake might have tasted like.

We continued to date and see each other for a few months. But fruits or any type of sweets were always forbidden when we went out. I am unabashedly passionate about my love for ice creams and cakes and these became items I’d eat only when we weren’t together. It was never an option; my thoughts on the subject were never asked, and I knew they wouldn’t matter.

As time passed, my enthusiasm for the local ice cream parlor’s Buckeye Blitz flavor (peanut butter cookie dough and dark chocolate chips) surpassed my desire to spend time with him. When it ended (not due to the ban on sweets), I wasn’t sorry or sad or filled with regret. A few days later, I went out to dinner with a few friends. When the time for dessert arrived, I ordered what my heart desired. It felt wonderful. It felt liberating.

Photos by Nik Sharma