Operation Date Maud's Hot Sister

The revelations outlined in the previous post gave me a modicum of comfort going into the big date. If Maud's Hot Sister wasn't the kind of person who sent lewd text messages to potential suitors via her sister as I originally thought, she was probably also not the kind of person who would do something unseemly in a Whistler restaurant. Maud mentioned that her sister liked sushi, and Nagomi Sushi was on the Whistler restaurant guide that was in the "Low $" category, so I made a booking for 7:30.

After a few hours at the gym and swimming at the Whistler recreation centre to get my body in top condition for the rigours of the night ahead, I went home to get ready. I shaved with an actual razor and removed ALL THE HAIR FROM THE BOTTOM HALF OF MY FACE for the second time in probably 4 years, showered, put on my suit and was ready to leave at a punctual 7:20.

Somehow, Maud's Hot Sister's preparations for the date became a team effort, and I waited until 7:50 for her to emerge from the upstairs bedroom to the considerable excitement of my housemates Maud and Fleur. Although this was stressful and I was worried about my booking, it did give me valuable time to make twitter updates to share the experience with y'all.

Marie and I, ready to depart.

In the end, I needn't have worried, because although the sushi place gave every indication of being super busy when I called to book, they were less than half-full. I should mention that I lost some style points on the way over, because Marie ended up driving me in her car after we decided we couldn't necessarily rely on the van to get us there and back.

Because I'm a gentleman who thrives under pressure, I ordered for both of us. For appetisers we had goma-ae (spinach in a sesame oil dressing) and takoyaki balls (deep-fried  octopus in batter).

Mains were local wild albacore tuna sashimi; red snapper, wild sockeye salmon and grilled eel nigiri sushi; and tuna and scallop sushi rolls.

Maud's Hot Sister tucks into a delicious scallop roll.

Since suffering is dish best served cold and over an extended period of time, we shared a green tea creme brulee for dessert.

Awkward dinner topics included: Whether the chopsticks were Chinese or Japanese, the philosophy of hairdressing, Canadian waiting staff, whether some of the other people at the farewell party that I crashed the night before by arriving unannounced to ask Marie on a date were actually planning to hit on Marie later that evening, and whether it was weird to wear a cream jacket to a pretty low-key sushi restaurant in Whistler. I will confess that I didn't really understand much of what Marie was talking about, but my years of retail experience mean I can nod and smile like a volunteer at an old-folks-home.

I had heard on the radio a few days earlier that one of the most influential factors in a first date was the generosity of the tip, so I left a substantial one. I also felt guilty about coming into a restaurant late, making a number of small and confusing orders, and openly discussing how much we didn't like North American service culture, so I tried to make up for that. I'm not sure how the whole "generous tip gets the ladies" approach is supposed to work. Upon seeing the bill, I just wanted to slide under the table and splash acid on my face. There didn't seem to be a way to discretely pay the bill and draw attention to the tip I was paying without a) discussing the size of the bill, and thus shed the thin vestige of denial that was holding back my tears and b) appearing pretty crass in front of my date. So I suspect that the tip didn't work as hard in my favour as it was supposed to.

Marie isn't that blurry in real life.

After our date, we went for a drive around the sights of Whistler. We visited the car park at the ski resort to see the view of the town (it was obscured by trees), the sliding centre (the luge and bobsled track, at which Marie competes and officiates), and two of the many lakes around the town. I suspect that if this had been a normal date, this would have been the part where I was supposed to make my move. Making a move would have probably made me the greatest human being to have ever lived, but I didn't for two reasons. First, I really really didn't want to, and second, I can't even conceive of how such a move would be made. Surely no one reasonably expects me to just dive over to the other side of the car and start smooching. The little storage compartment between the seats would be in the way, for a start.

OK, I'd better go get ready for the grand finale. Over and out.