TONY’s new editor-in-chief tells her most horrific dating story
Dear readers, we have a new EIC, and in an effort to get to know her better, we got her to share a hair-raising tale of modern romance
Fri Jan 31 2014
Photograph via Instagram
In case you haven't heard, Time Out New York's got a new editor-in-chief—the lovely Terri White, who comes to us by way of the U.K. Since we like to give our new colleagues a warm welcome, we got her to reveal the story of her most awful date ever so that we could share it with the World Wide Web.
Oh, and on that note, we want to invite you to our annual Singles Party, where you'll meet truly eligible bachelors and bachelorettes (we promise). There'll also be pizza from Artichoke and complimentary cocktails in which to drown your sorrows, in case you don't find that special someone. It's next Wednesday, February 5, and tickets are still available for only $30; nab them before they're gone. And now, we'll let Terri take over with her tale of an, um, abbreviated date.
"I met Ben* at a bar. It was 3am and a not-insignificant amount of drink had been taken. He sat next to me, I glanced up, and then we were chatting about my shoes and his terrible taste in music. By the time he took my number, my vision was a little compromised and my writing shaky.
"Four days later, we're on a date in an Italian restaurant that should have shut up shop in the 1980s. I walk in, he stands up. I think. Actually, he can't be standing up. Can he? Oh God, he's five feet tall. Maybe five-foot-one if I'm being generous. Now, I'm in a glass house here, being only five feet two inches, but golly; I've never seen a man that small with my own eyes. We take a seat, he picks up the bread sticks, breaks one in two, and I'm aghast at his tiny hands. I saw hands like that once—they belonged to Peter Levers, and he was using them to try and catch me in the playground when we were nine years old. We busy ourselves with the menu, neither of us able to think of a single word to utter to each other. Not even 'Oh' leaves our lips.
"An hour in, I'm losing the will to live. So I do something that I'm not proud of, and would never do again. I excuse myself, go to the bathroom and call my friend frantically (I'd already scoped out the window—too small). 'You have to create an emergency, I'm dying here!' Five minutes later, I'm taking a worried call from her about our sick cat. Five minutes after that, I'm hotfooting it out of the restaurant. As I'm leaving, Ben looks up at me, frowns and says: 'I'm never going to see you again, am I?' I never did see Ben again."—Terri White
* "Name changed to protect the innocent. Oh, also, I can't really remember his name."
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