This One Was Official

I'm catching a plane at noon, so that leaves little time for any promised recap. Instead, I will regale you with tales of the date I had last night with Sandra. And as the title would indicate, this one was official.

Before I begin, I should make mention of the fact that I'm a steak and potatoes kind of guy. I like buffalo wings and beer. I eat Cheerios out of the box. In short, I prefer "food" over "cuisine". I hate going to a restaurant and being served three ounces of food on a plate seventeen inches in diameter. But as they say, "I can play along."

We hit up this place called "Crush" on Madison. It looks like someone's house (I think it is someone's house). Honestly, you go in and it is like someone removed all of the stuff from your aunt's place and replaced it with restaurant furniture. It's pretty unique. We had both heard about it independently and both heard good things about it. We got there around seven.

Things started off rather amusingly when she asked what "Foie Gras" was. She had seen it on menus before but had never tried it. When I told her it was the liver of a goose that was basically force fed to fatten it, she didn't believe me. "You're making that up," Sandra said, and when the waitress came by to get our drink order, she confirmed it. "That's disgusting. Who would order that?" The waitress countered that a lot of people love it. Sandra was partly horrified, and partly in disbelief. I don't think I'll be telling her how Jell-O is made anytime soon.

She ended up ordering the seared scallops with risotto. I got the Alaskan halibut, which led to another failed food-based joke on my part, as I claimed I was ordering it "just for the halibut". Honestly, I thought that was much funnier than the Semifreddo joke, but she still didn't laugh. Are my jokes really that bad? Am I turning into my dad, whose jokes now evoke only groans?

Now, when it comes to relationships, I don't like playing games. I'm tired of that sort of crap... like Mikey at the end of "Swingers". If I want to talk to someone, I'm going to call them. I'm not going to wait the three days. So I moved the conversation along from small talk and halibut jokes to relationship talk. I didn't care that it was the first date. I asked her why, after spending a grand total of maybe eight hours with me, she decided to use me as a springboard for dumping her boyfriend, which resulted in a short-lived fistfight outside his house followed by a hasty exit from the scene. I put it in much better terms than that.

She explained that the fight was never meant to happen. The idea was to get him to break up with her, except that "it got all turned around". I asked why, if she didn't want to be with him, she didn't just break up with him. "I don't like to be single," she said, "and once I knew you were interested, that was the right time to move on." Clearly she subscribes to the Warm Body Theory, also known as "any port in a storm". At the same time, though, she doesn't seem needy or clingy. We only talked twice since the incident... once was a short getting-to-know-you session, and the other was planning the night out. It's clear to me that she's got issues, but I'm having trouble deciphering what those issues are.

Well, after dinner and drinks and some cheesecake (can someone explain once and for all how to pronounce mascarpone... does it rhyme with Al Capone or not?) we stopped in at Twilight Exit for a couple of drinks. Sandra was freaked out by the couches ("They look like something you'd try to give away on craigslist!"), but once we sat down at the Ms. Pac-Man machine, things brightened up.

"Get the strawberry! GET THE DAMNED STRAWBERRY!!"

"Where does she put the bow? It's not like she has any hair."

"No, the blue one is Inky! What do you mean, how do I know? It said it at the beginning. The pink one is Pinky! Yes, I know it's not very creative!"

Playing Ms. Pac-Man with a buzz on is a great experience. But alas, I had to travel the next day, so around midnight we headed back home. It's not for you to know or for me to write about extra-curriculars, but suffice it to say, she did not spend the night. I told her I'd call when I got back from Indochina.