One move behind

There is statistical evidence that supports the idea that going first in chess increases one’s chances of winning by 2-6%. Throughout chess history, multiple statisticians have analyzed millions of games to come to this conclusion.

Jeff Sonas, a statistician who analyzed 266,000 games played between 1994 and 2001, found that players who moved first won a little over 54.1% of the time.

The general consensus is that first-movers have an advantage because they are able to influence their opponent’s response thereby controlling the action of the game. It falls in line with the popular sports idiom: “Good offense beats good defense.”

And that is why I always arrive late to dates.

It’s a little ironic isn’t it? Wouldn’t the person who arrives first to a date be the first-mover?

No, the person who arrives first is a sitting duck who operates in the unknown. The person who arrives second is the one who dictates the flow of the date.

Allow me to explain.

When a person arrives late to a date, they automatically have the power to dictate the conversation as soon as they arrive. Because tardiness to a date generally comes with an explanation.

For example, if I want to start the conversation with a discussion about careers (which I usually do because people are generally impressed with surgeons), I would say “Hey! I’m so sorry I’m late. My operation was pushed back and I rushed over here as soon as it was over.”

Sometimes, if I want to open with a lighter touch, I might open with, “Hey! I’m so sorry I’m late. I saw you from the doorway and just got stuck there admiring how gorgeous you are.”

Corny? Perhaps, but it works. You just have to know your date.

Is your date career-oriented? A lover? Someone who’s just looking for a good time?

Just like in chess — knowing your opponent will give you an inherent advantage.

Last week, I tried to explain this concept to my best friend Jacky. She reacted with complete and utter disgust.

“Brandon, you’re really out here wasting these women’s time like that? You know you’re filth right. Some of these women that you date make $1000 an hour,” Jacky scolded from across the table in the hospital cafeteria.

“Hey, I always pay for the meal and I always make sure they have a good time,” I joked with a smirk.

“Brandon, I almost regret setting you up with Faith, but I think she’ll give you a taste of your own medicine.”

“I hope you’re right. It’s about time someone taught me a good lesson. I need a spanking.”

“Keep joking pal,” Jacky said as she waved her spoon at me, “Faith is different. You’ll see.”

That conversation with Jacky happened a week ago. Now, here I was, sitting in my car at 5:58 P.M. I was parked outside of the steak house I was supposed to be meeting Faith at. I had assured her that I would be there at 6:00, but I was sticking to my regular strategy.

I unlocked my phone and went back to my text message conversation with Faith.

“Sorry, running a few minutes late,” I texted her.

A few moments later, I received a response: “No worries. I’m seated outdoors. Wearing a black top.”

I looked up and peered towards the restaurant to see if I could spot my date.

There she was — the only person sitting outside. The top of a wine glass popped out between her two cupped hands. She seemed at ease.

I found myself admiring her for her ability to be still and create her own peace.

I looked back down at my phone and responded, “Sorry, just finishing up some paperwork..”

When I looked back up towards the restaurant, I found myself locking eyes with my date. Faith waved towards my car with a smile on her face. I saw her pick up her phone.

Embarrassed, I dropped my head down and stared and awaited the incoming text.

Ding!

“Do you always do paperwork in your car?” the message read.

For a moment, I considered calling the date off all together, “When you’re caught you’re caught,” I mumbled to myself. But her response piqued my interest, and I decided in some ways this might end up being a good thing… there was little to lose at this point.

I stepped out of the car and headed towards the restaurant.

“Hey! I’m sorry…” I said to Faith as I took a seat at the table, “What I meant to say was —”

She cut me off, “Did you know that wineries hand select the best grapes for their flagship wines? Not all wines use hand picked grapes, but the best wines usually do.”

She lifted her glass and continued, “There are a thousand other things that can go wrong in the winemaking process… Wines can go bad if they are aged a day too long or exposure to a few ounces of excess oxygen. That’s why it’s important to pick the right grapes. They say selection requires a well trained eye.”

Faith looked back at me, “I’m willing to take a closer look.”

She was stunningly beautiful. Her looks alone made me want to impress her.

At that moment, our waitress approached the table, “How are y’all doing today? Are you ready to order? Would you like another drink, ma’am?”

“Not quite yet, but could we get another menu for my friend?” Faith asked.

“That was quite a speech you gave there. How many of those have you had?” I teased as I nodded towards her drink.

“Not enough,” Faith replied without missing a beat.

The waitress was still waiting with pen and pad in hand, seemingly amused by our exchange.

“I’m going to need some of whatever she’s having,” I said jokingly, glad that we were changing the tone of the conversation.

“Mojave Rain Merlot. I found it through my Bright Cellars membership,” Faith informed.

“Is it better than your taste in men?” I asked sarcastically,

Faith paused and looked at me, “I don’t know. Is it?” she shot back.

The waitress laughed at Faith’s last comment and said, “Alright, so a glass of Mojave Rain Merlot for the gentleman, and menus as well. I’ll be right back!”

There was a moment of silence, and just as I was about to shift the direction of the conversation, Faith began, “Hey, do you want kids?”

“Excuse me?” I asked surprisedly.

“I want kids.”

=“Jeez, Faith, I haven’t even looked at the menu yet and we’re already talking about kids,” I joked trying to avert the question.

“I’m still waiting on the answer.”

I leaned back in my chair and sighed, “You’re not letting up, are you? Wouldn’t it be wise to see if you actually enjoy my company before we start talking about our happily ever after?”

Faith took a sip of her wine, “Wisdom would be determining if I actually want your company. ’”

I chuckled, “Straight to the point, huh?”

“Precisely.”

I propped my elbow up on the table and held the side of my head in the palm of my hand. I looked at Faith in a few moments of silence as we waited to see who would move next.

“I’m not sure if I want kids,” I said as I decided to take initiative, “That’s a loaded question. I’d have to be with the right person.”

“So you do want kids,” Faith said as she pressed onwards.

“I guess I do.”

“Glass of Mojave Rain Merlot for you, sir,” our waitress said as she returned to our table.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said as she placed the wine on the table. I took a sip and was surprised at how good the wine was.

“Are we ready to order, y’all?”

As a gentleman, I waited for Faith to make a decision, but she was looking at me intensely. Silently. Waiting for me to make the move.

“Ms. Faith, do you know what you would like to eat?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. What about you?” she replied.

This time, I didn’t try to hide my smile. I knew what she was doing.

It’s important to note that although moving first gives one an advantage in chess, the advantage isn’t as significant among more skilled players. At the grandmaster level of chess, there are significantly more draws than at the lower levels. Masters are able to exchange moves blow for blow. Piece for piece.

A master of chess doesn’t necessarily need to control the action. They just need to wait for their opponent to make a mistake.

Well… I think this might be a different type of night. We’ll sit on our wine for now if that’s fine with you, Faith.”

“That sounds fine.”

“Great, I’ll leave you to it then. Just wave me over if you need anything,” our waitress said as she left us alone on the patio.

“So tell me a little bit about what you do,” I asked as I tried to navigate the conversation back to familiar territory.

“I’m an attorney,” Faith answered shortly.

“An attorney! What made you get into law?”

Faith paused for what seemed like minutes. “There’s this little girl named Christina. She cant remember every house she’s ever slept in. She doesn’t know what a mom is. She can’t remember how many ‘moms’ she’s ever had. All of her young life has revolved around the yearning for a place to call home, but she doesn’t even know what home is. This little girl clings to every moment of joy that she can grasp her little hands around, because she doesn’t believe any of them will last very long. She’s grown to expect inconsistency and never adjusts because she knows better than to adapt. This little girl is why I became a family attorney.”

“I’ve known Christina since she was 4. She’s been in foster care all of her life. I want nothing more than to adopt her, give her a place to call home and to be the last mother that she’ll ever have. She is my deal-breaker. And that is why I asked you about whether or not you wanted kids.”

I found myself in a new space. For the first time in a while — perhaps the first time ever — I wanted to impress a woman for no other reason than I was afraid of losing her.

I wanted to impress her because maybe impressing her might buy me more time with her.

And in that moment of reflection, I almost panicked — because for the first time I wasn’t sure how to even begin to impress the woman in front of me.