My grade school friends and I loved quoting the Grey Poupon commercial to each other. "Pardon me, sir. Do you have any Grey Poupon?" Always uttered in the most posh and sophisticated of voices. Then the reply, "But of course." As if there were any other type of mustard one would keep in the car!
I'm not sure that I ever tried Grey Poupon, or any dijon mustard for that matter, while I was a kid. My house was more of a yellow mustard place and I would use it on just about anything. I wouldn't come to understand the deliciousness of dijon until I was a grown-up. I know this, however: that commercial was playground gold.
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I've tried on-line dating three times. The first time was during graduate school, when I really didn't have time to meet anyone. It should surprise no one that no dates resulted during that hectic season. I tended to think of this as my non-experience with on-line dating and would actually answer no if anyone asked me if I'd tried it. Why do people seem to believe on-line dating is the cure-all for singleness? (Answer to that question: it's not.) (Also, if you're married, do not ask a single person if they've tried on-line dating. We have. It didn't work. This conversation does not help.)
I decided to give on-line dating another try about 5 years ago. This attempt actually led to dates. As I'm still single, you will correctly surmise that these dates did not work out that well.
I met Norman (not his real name) at one of my favorite brunch spots one snowy December day. I had reservations but decided it wouldn't hurt to meet him and see.
He did not look like his pictures but I tried to keep in mind that we all tend to choose our most flattering options when putting ourselves out there. He wasn't unattractive but he wasn't necessarily my type either.
He was extremely nervous, which was cute. I set to putting him at ease, falling back on my ability to have a conversation with just about anyone. I asked questions and ended up directing the conversation. Either he was that nervous or he didn't know how to ask me any questions about myself. Ah, the lost art of conversation. This didn't bode well for Norman.
At this point, still relatively early on in the date, I was pretty sure that we would not be a good match for a few reasons. But a date is a date and so I soldiered on.
We perused the menu, commenting on how it would be difficult to choose. Norman was debating two options and asked for my input.
He pointed at one of the sandwich descriptions. "Do you know what Die-john is?"
DIE-JOHN.
My heart sank as I looked at the word in question.
"You mean, dijon?" I gently asked, trying to cover my shock, trying not to giggle at his expense.
"Dijon?" He looked utterly baffled. "What's that?"
Oh dear Lord. He didn't know what dijon mustard was? Did he live under a rock? Did he not venture down the condiment aisle when grocery shopping? What did this say about his powers of observation?
"It's mustard. Like Grey Poupon," I ventured, hoping this would spark some understanding, hoping I could then reference that most excellent commercial.
Silence. Deafening silence.
I knew in that moment that we were not meant to be.
Now I know dijon mustard is small in the grand scheme of things. And if Norman had been wonderful in every other way, I would have overlooked this gap in his culinary knowledge and happily taught him about the wonderful world of mustard and marketing at its finest.
However, nice as he was, Norman was not wonderful in every other way...for me.
Some women have champaigne wishes and caviar dreams. Apparently I'm a mustard girl.
What's your opinion of on-line dating? Any good stories to share?