The problem of today’s dating game is technology. I believe the only way to know someone is to meet her and do things with her, the only way to build long-lasting memories, but today’s technology has deprived people of that fun. It seems that people think chatting online might give them a good idea whom they should go out with. Instead of exploring minds, everyone lays out their criteria for dream dates online: age, weight, height, job, marital status, hobbies…etc. It is so hard to actually ask someone out these days without a ruler measuring yourself inside and out.
Lately, I finally succeeded in asking someone out for dinner. Her online profile was fantastic, but I wasn’t thrilled by it, because I knew online profile meant nothing to me. We picked a restaurant I had never tried before – Western Chinese Restaurant, at Steeles/Warden in Toronto. The moment I stepped into it, I hated it right away. But I did not want to show that I was a picky jerk. Nevertheless, a date was a date. What we ate was not important.
The restaurant was full of people. In a Chinese restaurant, I was expecting a steamy and noisy place. Not this one. It was so quiet. No one was talking. Everyone was staring at something with their heads down, except a man, elbows on the table, holding a cell phone, covering half of his face. Husband and wife were texting each other, even though they were sitting inches opposite to each other, with their kid playing a game on his own cell phone. A group of boys and girls assiduously dabbing their cell phones with such dexterity that I started to worry about their spelling. Yes, everyone was either texting or reading something on their cell phone, in various states of waiting for the dishes, pausing during the meals or digesting after the meals. I felt as if I just walked into a steamy library that was smelling of food, instead of taking books from the severs, the severs quietly putting down their dishes and whispering the names of orders, and of cause, with no responses from the dinners who were so engrossed in whatever they were reading. Funny still, that reminded me of the restaurants in China where first thing people would do before fully settling down was to put out their cigarettes box and lighter, exchange cigarettes and start puffing smoke right into each other’ face, in a contest to kill each other. In my current case, it was a cell phone that people would take out first.
The busboy excitedly pronounced that his restaurant was on “wei xin” now, a cell phone network that was enabling people to broadcast their activities every minute. When I was equally excited to tell him that I had no idea what that was, he gave me such a look that made me feel I was the last dinosaur alive in this world.
My date was no exception. When we were waiting for our orders, she kept glancing at her cell phone on the table and fiddling with it from time to time. That was very distracting, and I lost all my clues and wits as to what to say. I had a strong urge to snatch up her phone and drop it in my drink, or more drastically, take it to the toilet room and flush it, but I did not have the guts.
Bored, I took out my cell phone and started browsing function menus, pretending to blend in. As usual, an idea started to take shape in my mind to poke nerves of these people. I looked at the contact numbers on my phone – there were not many, only a few - and started dialing and talking in a really loud voice so everyone can hear me.
“Hey, I am in this Western Chinese Restaurant right now. Just let you know that I am farting!”
This startled my date tremendously, but I did not care, because I was pretty sure I was not going to see her again. “What are you doing?!” She asked nervously under her breath, at the same time, looking around her, as if wishing no one was noticing us.
“I am calling all the people I know that I am farting in a restaurant!” I said joyfully.
“Oh, no…don’t call my number.” She was upset.
“No, I won’t. But I’ve texted you a fart already!”
