How to Date Someone Who Works in Restaurants (And Survive)
Dating a restaurant worker is not for the faint of heart. It’s not like dating normal people with weekends and circadian rhythms. It’s more like entering a long-distance relationship with someone who lives six blocks away but only exists between 2 and 5 a.m., holding a beer and mild trauma.
If you can handle that, read on. If not—there are plenty of accountants on Hinge.
Rule #1: You Will Never Have Dinner Together
Their “evening” begins when your evening is already over. When you say, “Want to grab dinner around seven?” they will laugh, go quiet, and then physically disappear into a walk-in fridge.
Rule #2: Sundays Don’t Exist
You think they’ll be free on Sunday. They think Sunday is just Saturday with fewer scallops. Their only real day off is some rogue Monday-morning-to-Tuesday-afternoon window, during which they sleep 14 hours and watch three episodes of anything involving Gordon Ramsay yelling.
Rule #3: They Don’t Text Back—They’re Not Dead
They’re just drowning in tickets, holding a sauté pan, and answering six different people yelling “Behind!” They will text you back at 1:47 a.m. with something heartfelt like: “sorry crazy service how r u.”
Rule #4: Words of Love Sound Like Kitchen Slang
They don’t say “I miss you.”
They say “I saved you some staff meal.” Or “We finally got that wine you like.” Or, on particularly tender nights: “Want to split the last creme brûlée?”
Rule #5: Their Wounds Are Not Symbolic—They’re From Hot Oil
You might notice their hands look like a topographical map of burn scars. Do not gasp. Do not apply aloe without warning. Simply ask, gently: “Fryer or oven?”
Rule #6: Be Prepared for Mood Swings (a.k.a. Service Flashbacks)
If a spoon clatters or someone says “86,” they might momentarily leave their body. This is not about you. This is about the hollandaise that broke in 2019 and the guest who asked if the salmon was “farm-raised emotionally.”
Rule #7: Date Night = 2:15 a.m. at the Dive Bar
Their ideal romantic evening is not candlelight and prosecco—it’s a dim booth, a double whiskey, and silence. Maybe a grilled cheese. If they order a salad, something is terribly wrong.
Rule #8: Love Means Letting Them Sleep
The greatest act of devotion is not flowers.
It is closing the blinds, turning your phone on silent, and not waking them up until their body naturally reboots.
Final Advice
Restaurant people are loyal to a fault, passionate to the bone, and slightly unhinged in a way that makes life better. If you can love someone who comes home smelling like smoke, citrus, and despair—congratulations.
You might survive this.