So let's get on to #31 and #32, shall we?
Something just struck me when writing the title of this post-- I really hope I'm not coming off like I'm "bragging," or that I think I'm, like, super cool or something. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like me. I'd be friends with me. But I don't think my poopie smells like roses or anything. I am just experiencing things I never thought I'd experience and breaking free from the cave of lame, nun-like marriedness I was in for 10 years. So every time a boy [man] even calls or txts me or tells me something nice, I seriously am like "REALLY??!" Yeah. That's what being locked up for eons will do to you. Luckily, Rapunzel's had no trouble whatsoever letting down her hair. And that leads us nicely into Saturday night.
I went on an actual dinner date with Almost Doc. This would be, shockingly, my FIRST since I started blogging. Sidebar: how freaking PATHETIC is that? What is wrong with these dum dums? If any of you out there are mothers raising sons, I am putting my faith in you to show those boys the right way to treat a woman!
Saturday I waited eagerly to hear from Almost Doc about where we'd be going for dinner. He finally called in the late afternoon to ask where I wanted to go. Oh no, no nooo, Almost Doc. YOU asked me out, YOU make the plans. I'm sure you've all experienced this and how annoying it is. I should have really held him accountable, but the restaurant control freak/masculine energy side of me couldn't deal with the prospect of him picking a bad food and/or bad location place, so I made a few suggestions and left it up to him. At least that put him partially in charge anyway. So he texted back to meet at 8:30 at his pick, my neighborhood fave, Emporio, an elegant, cozy and delicious Roman-Italian Nolita hotspot. Excellent choice! [Well, they all were, really.]
Then, something occurred to me. Did this dude think to call first and see about a rez? Emporio is not just a walk-in and be seated immediately type of place. Feeling like a crazy control freak, yet again, I strategized a nice way to ask this.
ME: "Sweet! Can't believe you got a rez, that place is usually packed on Sat."
HIM: [10 mins later]: "Ha, actually called after I texted you that. They can only take us at 9:15."
You're lucky they can take us at all, dummy! UGH. I really can't hold everyone's hand, now can I? But I forgot about it, excited to still be going on a nice date, and I donned some sexy stockings and fave LBD and headed over.
He told me, amongst many other compliments, that I looked "stunningly beautiful" and maybe tried to kiss me across the table like 10x, while intermittently holding/kissing my hand. Um...a little much for a second date, no? Also, I'm fine with a little bar smooching action but in a nice resto? Not so classy, dude. The words "He needs SERIOUS training" must have popped into my head about 300 times during the night. Predominately when we were ordering dinner and he decided to ask for Penne Ala Vodka. True, that is an Italian dish. It just doesn't happen to be on the menu at this resto, dude. I thought our waiter was going to actually laugh in his face. Who DOES that? Tres gauche. But, I tried not to judge too much. Not everyone is a restaurant savant, and I'm sure a medical student would fit into that category. Plus we DID have fun, and he wouldn't let me pay for anything. However, based on one convo during dinner, I am slightly concerned he may have a porn addiction, so that should be a fun thing to slowly uncover in the future.
As irony would have it, the most well-mannered "proper dating" one of them all is also the filthiest-minded and possibly most immature of them all. Why, filthy-minded, you ask? Oh, trust me. I can just tell. There's something about this Almost Doc I can't quite put my finger on yet, but I will figure it out. I'm willing to give him one more date though, 'cause, he's really cute. We'll just have to see how far cute gets you...
Hope you're not bored yet, cause here comes #32!
where they have master mixologists from their bars prepare unique cocktails and guest chefs from theirs/other restaurants prepare dishes. This time, TJ designed an incredible cocktail menu and the chefs then configured the menu around it. They clear out their huge, artist-space of an apt and make it into a gorgeous seated dinner party. I was lucky enough to be personally invited [yeah, I'm all VIP n' stuff], and I also got to bring a guest if I so desired. I debated for awhile, not necessarily which date to bring, but really more of "date or no date" debate. In the end, I decided to bring The Chef. First because, being in the food service industry, he knows many of the people who would be attending, which is always a bonus. And, because I figured it would be a fun culinary experience to share together. And, it was! What a unique and
|cheers to fun!|
|braised veal cheeks. um, YUM.|
Even a fantastic musical duo, Darling Cait, who crooned into a retro mic while musician, Ian, played toy piano. Sounds crazy, but it was pure musical awesomeness. And, due to the cocktail pairings with each course, we were one drunky-skunky group of Supperclub-ers by the end. As we were mingling about afterwards, BFWB came bounding up to me and exclaimed "I LOVE your boy!!" This came as no surprise to me. First of all, they could practically be brothers, their coloring is so similar. Plus, The Chef is really funny and a great chit-chatter. And, even though he's only 25, their maturity level is pretty similar. (Kidding, B! You know I loves ya.) I, of course, instantly retorted that he is NOT my boy, but BFWB knows I've been on the fence about The Chef, so he insisted I keep an open mind, after having fallen bromantically in love with him. I agreed and a group of us headed to a bar for a little post-party party. At some point in the night, BFWB came back to me and said "Ok. I get it now." A-HA! See? I knew I wasn't just being a crazy, judge-y beyotch. The Chef is really really awesome, but 25, "old-soul" or not, is just not going to be at the maturity level I need. But that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun, right? And fun we all did have. Too much. WAY too much for a Monday night. Ouchie.
At the end of the night (or early morning in our case), I was exhausted because I haven't slept much lately. Plus I'm currently experiencing my "lady times" of the month, and therefore wasn't so keen on The Chef having a sleepover. But, seeing as I was about 9 sheets to the wind and we were already in a cab together, this seemed inevitable. However, knowing he probably had some expectations [aka "getting some"], I had to tell him what the situation down South was. Funsies! It's just so much easier with someone who's a seasoned vet. But he proved to be an excellent cuddle-buddy, and I was so exhausted at that point, I probably could've slept soundly next to a heavy-breathing orangutan.
The Chef really is so cute and sweet and I do enjoy spending time with him, I just worry about leading him on and not wanting to hurt him. Since my Line-Up Flowchart seemed to go over so well yesterday, I've created another visual aid to describe my perception of the situation. It's a pie chart. Using actual pie.
My darling The-bro told me these tools are actually called "Infographics." I quite like them. Expect more in the future.
Anyway, here's where my dating novice is starting to show. How long do I hang out with someone I like but don't like like? And to that point, I don't really know if I like like ANYONE in the current line-up! Maybe it's because I've overdone it? It feels like when you go into Sephora and smell so many perfumes that after awhile, you can't smell ANYTHING. Is that what's happening here? It's like I need the human equivalent of coffee beans to help me figure it out! Hmm...better keep my eye on this situation....
But first, I'm going to keep my eye on my pillow. I'm actually STAYING. HOME. TONIGHT. And, it's probably a really good thing. This morning I could swear I heard my liver screaming at me. Luckily, stuffing it into my skinny jeans seemed to muffle it.
To Be Continued...