This is not a blog about dating. This is not a blog about dating. This is not – well, you get it.
Let’s get to the point.
Guy calls girl (who happens to be Sepia). Guy asks girl on a date. Girl accepts. Impeccably Dressed Guy Who Happens to Smell Like Diesel treats Naturally Coiffed Girl With Absurd Shoe Game to an exclusive restaurant overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. They alternately gaze from the moon’s glisten on the water to the pools of admiration housed in one another’s eyes. They fare sumptuously on an Italian feast of vegetarian lasagne and eggplant parmesan. They kiss over tiramisu. Guy and girl fall hopelessly in love. El Fin.
*wakes from dream sequence*
Here’s how it really went:
At the tail end of a marathon BBM session with an ex-crush turnt business associate, I was hit with the “oh, by the way if you’re free on Thursday we should have dinner. I haven’t seen you face-to-face in ages.”
Me: Okay, sure.
First, let me give you the backstory on said crush. We spent a summer dating, dining, debating then deading one another once the Miami Heat turned breezy. Having ended on good terms, we still referred one another for freelancing gigs; him being a graphic designer and me a writer.
So, you could say we were friendly.
Fast forward to date night.
The Hair was pressed so there was no fro to fluff. I pranced around my room in a silk robe until about an hour before date time. It was cold for Miami so I knew I’d don patterned tights of some sort. Definitely lace.
The Berry bing’ed. It was him.
P.J. : Hey. Be there in twenty.
P.J.: Wear something sexy
Sepia: Ha! I’ll try.
P.J.: See you soon.
Post-shower I moisturized, lightly spanked the face and found the perfect ensemble. Just before I slipped on the lace that would make my legs magic, I just HAD to know where we were going.
Sepia: Where to? Beach or local?
Sepia: Where local?
P.J.: I was thinking the Olive Garden.
(Insert 5 minute pause which feels like a year via BBM)
P.J.: You there?
Sepia: Yup. Getting dressed.
Okay, so this is the thing. I don’t hate The Olive Garden. I ABHOR the place. Great commercials, that soup, salad and breadsticks lunch is genius, but I just don’t eat there…. on dates.
According to The BFF, “Olive Garden is a place you take someone when you want to say ‘ I don’t like you, but I want to hang out with you.’ ”
My take on The Olive Garden is simple.
It’s a place for married people who don’t want to cook, or people really comfortable with one another (read: been together for like 5 years). My aunt’s book club goes there for their monthly meetings. It’s just that chic. Yeah.
Slighted much, Sepia?
Some of you reading may think I’m the biggest snob ever, but I have my preferences. I treat myself very well. Like, very well. Therefore, if That Guy is taking me out on a date, I expect him to meet certain standards. (and, no, it has nothing to do w/ his income; there are nice places that aren’t super expensive – oh nevermind!)
Besides, he told me to (cringe) “wear something sexy” and there’s absolutely nothing sexy about The Olive Garden unless they’ve hired new waiters since the last time I visited.
Here’s the rest of the exchange:
P.J.: Is there a problem with Olive Garden?
Sepia: Why’d you ask? There’s no problem
P.J.:Because you paused.
Sepia: Oh. Well, actually… I don’t usually eat there.
(3 minutes of silence)
Sepia: You there?
(2 minutes of silence)
P.J.:What’s wrong with Olive Garden?
Sepia: I just don’t like it? (intentional question mark)
Sepia: If you don’t wanna go anymore, I completely understand.
In hindsight, I was trying to lessen the blow a bit.
P.J.: What do you want to eat, [Sepia]?
Sepia: I don’t know.
P.J.: We’re getting sushi. I’m outside.
This was not a lesson on how to get your way. Keep reading:
At dinner the conversation was great. Sushi (my fave) was amazing.
He was reminded of how spoiled I could be and said I remind him a lot of his new girlfriend.
I sipped my water to lessen the blow. Nodded. Acknowledged the comparison and the girlfriend that I’d never heard of prior to thirty seconds ago and tried to finish the spicy tuna roll.
In the end, he got the last laugh. We’re still business associates. We bbm semi-regularly and I’m meeting his girlfriend soon. In the end, our friendship is still in tact (even though he confused me with the cringe-worthy “wear something sexy” line). The boundaries of our relationship had changed and though he wanted to hang out, he didn’t like me “like that” anymore.
Lucky for him, he has someone who’ll enjoy anything from peanut butter sammy to Olive Garden as long as she’s with him.