Some of you might think that going for ice cream is not much different from going for coffee on a first date. After all, you’re meeting over some kind of food and there are lots of great coffee places where you can people watch.
But listen to this: According to a recent study by Baskin-Robins a person’s choice of ice cream flavor says something about his or her personality.
For example, if you order vanilla you’re more likely to be impulsive, easily suggestible and an idealist. (Oh, my, one of my favorite flavors ).
A chocolate lover suggests a dramatic, lively, charming, flirtatious, seductive and gullible person. My second favorite ice cream flavor is the six types of chocolate at Ripples. Does that mean I’ve six times more drama and charm?
My first job when I turned sixteen was working selling soft ice-cream in my father’s store, Louis Luncheonette.
I loved that job. It was a place where I met all kinds of people and so it was only natural that my memory would have such positive connotations regarding ice-cream and that I would suggest it as a first date. Besides, who doesn’t like ice-cream?
But which ice cream parlor to go to?
The Dairy Queen was out of the question simply because I save it as my personal ritual into spring. I always choose a beautiful, sunny spring afternoon for my first chocolate dipped cone. The first one of the season is always the best. Isn’t that always the case?
Also, I wanted this first date ice cream choice to have some class to it. In other words –home-made ice cream.
My choice dwindled down to three ice cream parlors in my area. The first one is in the east end of fashionable Laurier Avenue called Bo-Bec.
Here’s what an article in The Gazette (2012), Montreal’s daily English newspaper had to say about Bo-Bec.
Choice number two was Kem CoBa on Fairmount Avenue. A cute store front where you can watch the owners make their ice-cream right in front of you and sit on colorful benches along with other ice cream fans. They have original flavors such as salted butter and their own soft ice cream, a combination of ice cream and sorbet: apple and cinnamon or sour cherry sorbet and Almond Milk soft ice cream. Flavors like that for the adventurous taste buds.
My final choice was Ripples on Boulevard Saint Laurent. It is a hole in the wall kind of parlor.
You can’t sit inside Ripples but there’s a bench outside facing Swartz’, the famous smoke meat place where tourists line up for hours.
I chose the French Vanilla and my date chose Rainbow Sherbet. I made a mental note to check what his personality profile meant when I got back home, but so far the prospects weren’t looking that favorable. For one thing, he was a lot better looking and younger on his photo. And the t-shirt he was wearing already had stains on it and not from Rainbow Sherbet. My bet was if there’d have been a beer flavored ice cream he’d have chosen that one.
“Vanilla’s always boring. Are you a vanilla girl in bed?”
I ignored him. “You know a person who chooses vanilla ice cream tends to be an idealist,” I told him giving him the once over.
As we sat on the bench watching the line up in front of Schwartz’s I said, “Have you ever been there?”
“No,” he said. “Too touristy.”
“Do they make tombstones at that place next door?” he asked about the yard next to Ripples.
“Yup,” I said.
“I don’t know,” I said. I told him about an interview I’d recently heard with Samuel Beam.
“Never heard of him.”
“His band goes by the name Iron and Wine.”
“I only listen to old sixties music.”
“Anyway,” I said taking another lick of my ice cream. I was getting in a hurry to finish it. “He said that the only three things that matter to write about are love, death and God. What do you think about that?”
“I’m an atheist,” my date said.
Even before we’d finished our ice creams I needed to move and suggested that we walk along Saint Laurent. I pointed out the Veille Europe, told him that when I was a kid my parents would come here to get their kielbasa.
He didn’t seem interested until he saw a bar and asked me if I felt like having a drink.
“Ice cream always makes me thirsty,” he said.
It was two-thirty in the afternoon. The sun was shining. A fabulous fall day. I didn’t much feel like wasting the remainder of my afternoon drinking beer in a dark bar, even less being with him.
“No,” I said. “But you go ahead. I think I’ll head back home.”
He didn’t argue and I watched him walk into the bar by himself. I kind of felt sorry for him. But then I walked to where I’d left my bike passing by some interesting architecture and landmarks.
I stopped at Kem CoBa and bought a pint of Madagascar vanilla to take home. I wonder if the type of bean makes a difference to one’s personality.
So this first date wasn’t so great. But it wouldn’t have been great anywhere except maybe some drinking hole. Where he could have got drunk. You can’t win them all. My writer friend, Thelma claims that, “Maybe the whole point (of dating) is to stop looking for romance and to just enjoy where you are, with whoever you’re with.” Or just to enjoy the ice cream, in my case.
When I got home I went on the Baskin-Robbins study and found out that Rainbow Sherbet indicated a pessimistic person.
Lesson to learn: One should always ask what their favorite flavor of ice cream is before accepting a date.
I then listened to this and thought that in my case, ice cream was better. At least this time.