Last week Sandra and I went out to Sazerac in the Hotel Monaco for dinner. On the way in, she ran into this guy Randall from her work. She introduced me as her "boyfriend". For her sake I smiled and went along with it during introductions, but once we were seated, I asked her, tactfully, what gave her the impression that I was her boyfriend. We were dating, sure, but that didn't make us boyfriend-girlfriend. When I brought it up, I could tell immediately that she was hurt, but she did a great job shrugging it off and explaining that it was just semantics. Sure, I wasn't her "boyfriend", but it was just for the sake of a quick introduction. "This guy I'm dating" would have been confusing. I suggested that perhaps just introducing me as me would have sufficed, and she got defensive and said, "Well, sorry, next time I'll do that.
The next day I brought this up to coworkers. None of the guys seemed to think it was a big deal, but all of the women did. "She wouldn't use that word unless it that's what she thought. That's not a word you just throw out casually." I called Betty and talked to her about it. She gave me something of an "I told you so" speech and explained that her sister, while very pretty and very nice, was emotionally unstable and that I would have been better off not entering a relationship with her in the first place. Too late.
So... I might just break things off, because if things get a lot more serious, and then it gets broken off, things will be weird with Betty and some of my other friends. At the same time, I think maybe I'm overreacting. It's not like she said she was in love with me.
On a related note, when we were at Sazerac, I ordered the salmon, which comes with a bunch of stuff, including beet salad. I asked the waitress to hold the salad, because I do not like beets. After the waitress left the table, Sandra told me that it was very rude of me to do that. "The chef who put together that menu knows more about food than you. Asking the chef to change his recipe is the same as telling him you know food better than he does. "
She was quite serious about this. I was pretty sure she had read this somewhere, because it was obvious she didn't think it through.
I asked her why the table had salt and pepper shakers. After all, wouldn't the chef know exactly the right amount of salt and pepper to add to a dish? "That's not the same," she said, already realizing she would lose the argument. Chefs do know a lot more about food than I do, I added, but they don't know what foods I like and don't like. I don't like beets; if beets come to the table, they will not be eaten; they will end up in the bottom of the trash bin. If I were a chef, I would prefer someone tell me they don't like beets beforehand, so I don't have to waste time preparing them for the bottom of said trash bin. It was actually a much wordier argument, but I don't remember most of it.
"Well, I just don't think it's right" is what she finished with. I checked with Betty on this one, too, and it's apparently true. She never asks for substitutions or omissions, even if it's a side dish that's not part of the meal. "Any time she's offered a salad, she'll order it, and spend time picking a dressing, and 90% of the time she doesn't even eat it."
Weird.
