Steak Crimes and Tinder Tragedies: A Well-Done Disaster at The Capital Grille

Swipe Left on Well-Done Steak: Lessons from a Charlotte Tinder Date

Some crimes are forgivable. Are you talking too much about an ex? Annoying but tolerable. But ordering a well-done steak at The Capital Grille in Charlotte? That’s a felony against food. And unfortunately, that’s precisely what happened on a recent Tinder date that will live in infamy.

Picture the scene: The Capital Grille, one of Charlotte’s finest establishments, known for its aged USDA Prime cuts. I was prepared for great food, decent wine, and maybe even some interesting conversation. Instead, I got an education in how to ruin a steak—and a night—simultaneously.

When our server asked how she’d like her filet mignon prepared, I held my breath. “Well done,” she said without hesitation. My stomach dropped. Well done? At The Capital Grille? You might as well take a Picasso and color it in with crayons.

I tried to mask my horror, but the damage was done. The server, ever the consummate professional, nodded politely, though I swear I saw a flicker of pain in his eyes. Somewhere in the kitchen, a chef was likely reconsidering their life choices as they sent this masterpiece to its fiery grave.

When the steak arrived, it looked like a relic from a Pompeii barbecue—charred, lifeless, and utterly defeated. She dove in with enthusiasm, declaring it “perfect.” Meanwhile, I savored my medium-rare filet, tender and pink, and wondered how two people could see the same thing so differently.

The conversation didn’t help. Between bites of her culinary travesty, she told me tales of her ex-husband, whom she described as a cross between a Bond villain and a used car salesman. Her literary preferences were the icing on this burnt cake: a cocktail of self-help fluff and YA vampire sagas. Charles Bukowski rolled over in his grave.

By the night’s end, I wasn’t just done with the date; I was done with humanity. I paid the check—because apparently, bad taste extends to gender roles—and left a hefty tip to compensate the staff for the tragedy they had to witness.

Here’s the thing: steak is a litmus test for character. Ordering it well done says more about you than your entire dating profile. It’s not just a preference; it’s a declaration of war against flavor, nuance, and joy.

So, the next time you’re dining at The Capital Grille in Charlotte, do everyone a favor: respect the steak. And maybe think twice before swiping right.

Until next time,

Jack Beckett – caffeine-powered, child-free, and unapologetically me. ☕

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