See, that’s what bugs me about this story. I’ve been away from the singles scene for the past 8 years or so, but I remember always telling the girl about my plans for the night before we went out, just in case it wasn’t good for her. In the rare cases I forgot she would always ask where we we going. In the OPs tale, either he was a jerk for refusing to tell her where they were going, or she was an idiot for going to a place she wouldn’t enjoy. Ideally, there should have been a phone conversation that went something like this:
Him: “… so listen, we’ll meet at 7:30, OK? There’s this great bar I’m sure you’ll love by Union Square - good food, and the most interesting selection of wines in town.”
Her:"That sounds fine, but I have to tell you - I don’t really drink alcohol, so the place mght be a bit wasted on me. Sorry. I’d still love to go out - "
Him: “Hey, that’s cool. So let me think, now- you like sushi? Because I know this place in the East Village…”
Yo’d be surprised. If you’re enough of a VIP, a good enough restaurant would get you anything.
My wife was working as a pastries sous-chef at the Russian Tea Room when Gene Simmons (of KISS) came in for an after-theater snack, and ordered some strawberries with cream. Needless to say, there were no strawberries and cream on the menu, nor were there strawberries in any other dessert. In fact, they didn’t have any strawberries in stock. So my wife sent a runner out to find an open green-grocer, whipped toether some kick-ass cream, and ten minutes later, the 70’s star had his dessert. I’m not sure what they billed him, but he left a pretty good tip (none of which, of course, reached my wife).
So if you were famous, and ordered Cheerios, they’d go ahead and make you the best damn Cheerios in the world.