If anyone ever asks me about my hobbies, I hope I remember to mention spying on other peoples’ dates while ostensibly enjoying a meal at a restaurant, because it is absolutely one of my favorite things to do.

The other day Dave and I were having dinner at the bar of a restaurant downtown, seated near a couple clearly on a first or second date (at one point the guy asked, “So what do you do?” which indicates either a very early date or the very last date).

I judged them instantly. First, the woman was unfamiliar with Allagash White. She asked for Allagash’s “pale.” And then she wanted a taste. And then, in a sotto voice as the bartender was pouring her a taste of maybe the most widely available beer in Maine short of Bud Light, she asked her date whether it was any good. They chuckled. My thoughts:

1. This is a beer that probably costs, what, four or five dollars? Just buy it. If you hate it enough to not be able to finish it, stop drinking it and get something else.
2. How did you get yourself into Maine without familiarizing yourself with Allagash White? Is that allowed?

THEN the guy, who, according to Dave, looked like “Gordon Gecko without the hair gel,” ordered a wedge of iceberg lettuce with balsamic vinaigrette (on the side) instead of blue cheese dressing. The lady ordered the wedge of iceberg lettuce WITH the blue cheese dressing. (This restaurant, by the way, has seven salads listen on their website menu, plus at least 10 vegetable sides when you include specials).

THEN they spent some time sitting in silence next to each other while they used their phones.

Then the guy got up to go to the bathroom, and the woman was joking to the bartender about the craziness of ordering the iceberg lettuce wedge with balsamic vinaigrette (on the side) instead of blue cheese dressing, as she had. She also made some quasi disparaging comments about his steak preferences. Also, I wanted to take a picture of my food (which I hate doing, actually, and makes me horribly embarrassed, but that’s another story) and she made a derogatory comment about my picture-taking.

Then he came back and they ate their salads.

Then they disappeared in the direction of the bathrooms. The woman returned for a moment to put her blackberry into her purse, which was hanging on the back of her chair. Then she left again.

Dave struggled for at least five minutes to understand the logic of moving your blackberry from unattended on top of the bar to within your purse, unattended, and failed. They did not return from the bathroom for the remainder of our meal.

Dave, after 10 minutes: “They’ve been gone for a long time. I don’t want to go to the bathroom now.”

Dave, after 15 minutes: “You could have taken her purse and been in Biddeford by now.”

When we left, the bartender asked if they had gone outside, and we said, no, they went toward the back of the restaurant, and the bartender made a face and I was so glad I was not her.