I feel like I owe you an explanation for this… Like I need to tell you why I decided to do this, and why I decided to do it this way. Without getting into too much detail, it all started with the back corner table at Café Rouge with Jane Austen and a glass of pinot noir… which I never drink, but I was being lazy and asked the waiter to bring me his favourite red. He has shit taste.
Anyway, as I was reading over my favourite line from Northanger Abby “friendship is the best balm for the pains of love” or something like that… I noticed Larry (I didn’t know his name at the time or else I might have written him off – I’ve never been fond of names that are synonyms for nights of pist mayhem - but that's neither here nor there).
Larry had sandy hair, cut choppy and brushed to the side as if he was frustrated at some point that day. He was giving me a couple of glances over his coffee cup and I think I was a bit smitten with his nice dress sense and casual appearance and he had a sweet smile when he caught me looking at him.
So I decided to pretend I was bold and I closed my book and gave him a couple of looks while I sipped my wine.
And this, my friends, is how it’s done. Listen up boys if you are reading this because I’ve never seen anything so smooth. Larry looked me dead in the eye, put down the spoon he had in his crème brûlée, moved it to the opposite side of the table and pushed out the open chair in front of him. Then he motioned to me – ever so subtly with a tilt of the head... but completely blatant.
[insert inward girl scream] holy shit holy shit holy shit. Just breathe… what the fuck is that! Now you need to know this about me... and I mean you NEED to know... crème brûlée is the king's pajamas... it's the one dessert that makes me swoon (I'm not exaggerating.) Ordering a dessert can be the make or break part of the date - I always share - but if a guy wants a trifle - don't bother saving his number in your phone. Exquisite taste in dessert is on my checklist... yes... I have a checklist.
I glanced down at my closed book, took a slow sip of my wine and gained some composure after my initial shock.
And this, ladies, is how you get a date. I smiled at him (a bit coy – you know the way), stood up, gathered my things and slid my business card on his table as I walked by…
3 hours later I got a text about my dinner plans on Saturday.
Newly single, and impressed that it worked I was very eager. I wondered how or if I could keep this bold charade up. I was scared shitless, an emotional train wreck after breaking up with my last boyfriend, and to be honest, incredibly self conscious - especially about my weight (which I think I’ll never get over no matter how thin I am).
But I was turning a new leaf – after my last boyfriend (we’ll call him George), after George, I didn’t want a guy to make every decision for me… blah blah blah, becoming self righteous and confident and an independent woman and shit… I decided if I wanted something, I probably deserved it and should do whatever it takes to get it.
So… what did I want… company, some entertainment, free meals at nice restaurants, and kisses… lots and lots of kisses.