Thursday, July 9, 2009
Continued from Part I. Mobile-blogged this, so I'll edit it later and post an update tomorrow. Consider this a preview for you late-night readers.
While smoking, I talked to the two valets outside. They said their tips were down significantly from last year. Sad.
I noticed very nice cars parked out front, expensive ones. I made a joke to them about how I expect my car (a 10 year old rust bucket that I love) before dinner is over. They laughed back, but both knew my car and also loved the model. Beauty is in the eye of the intelligent beholder, I guess.
Speaking of beauties, the lovely Delecta was waiting inside, so I flicked my butt across the street and headed in. As I sat down, I noticed my glass of beer was still 30% full, so I downed it. I normally hate stale beer, but this organic lager was still tasty as it went down. Not too shabby.
I poured a little more of my Serie A, and Delecta had more of her beer in her typical slow-drinker fashion.
We chatted about our usual topics: my non-existent lovelife, her aches and pains in love and work. I continue to be surprised that such a polish young vixen isn't used to nice dinners out. Where are the young, gorgeous men who don't mind spending a few C-notes to woo this sweet lady?
As usual, our cell phones were tucked away. The mean couple next to us each had their cell phones out, prominently displayed as if to say "you mean less to me than anyone who might text me." Ugh. Bad date for them.
Laughter was pronounced and obvious at our 6 square feet of table. I glanced around and so some happy people, some serious; none were having a grand ole time like Delecta and I. Fun and foodsex, something that goes hand-in-hand together.
Our first plate came: the boutin blanc with blueberry moutard. The damn sauce had whole blueberries in it. D sliced the phallic sausage in two (ouch) and we battled for the sauce and gristle, playfully.
It was amazing. I wanted to say something but she held up her finger, closed her eyes and trembled from her belly to the nape of her neck. Yes, folks, the boutin was that good.
After practically licking our plates clean, we sipped our drinks and were eager for the dish I noticed making its way out from the open kitchen behind the lady.
As it was presented, we both gasped. The fish was crispy, countered by an odd-green vegetable that looked and felt like zuchini but the taste was unique. I have no idea what it was.
We split the fish in two, me cutting the larger piece down to share. I did a piss poor job, eliciting a great laugh of dominance from Delecta. I'm a good sport, blushing and accepting my failure in stride.
As we ate, we were silent. The fish was fried perfectly, the inside flaky but solid. The flavor was aggressively meaty without a hint of fishiness. Outstandinf 5 star fish at a 4 star price.
Again we licked the plates clean, watching as the excellent table servers (4 of them) removed the plates and quality silverware from the table quickly. They poured water when it was 3/4 full (perfect!).
I lightly flirted with the server, an interesting looking gal with a face of early 20s but arms that say 30s. I asked her for her name and when she replied, I spelled it. It was a different spelling for a common name, and she was shocked. Once I broke the ice, she touched me not once but 4 times on the back and the arms. I was casual play, almost begging for a big tip.
I tried to guess where she was born but failed, twice. Damn it. The age guess was also off by a decade group. Damn it, again.
I earlier had told Delecta that we should stick to 2 entrees so we could get dessert. She agreed. With dinner finished and both of us coming down from our mutually-timed foodgasms, we asked about the desserts and received a small menu.
We had scene the berry waffle on our way in. Done. We also grabbed a second dessert, but I honestly forgot the name. It was a pot de creme of some sort with two cookies.
Delecta decided to take her break to adjust her hair or whatever it is than women do, and as she got up to wander towards the powder room, I fought the urge to check the ass. With her, it becomes a losing battle. For a gal who doesn't work out, holy shit. No, seriously, everyone should be so lucky. After gazing for a good 15 seconds, I turned to see TWO of the young lady servers looking at me. Caught in the fucking act. I smiled, they smiled, and one guy working gave me a thumbs up.
I nodded no, but he smiled a yes. Haha, fuck me.
As she returned, dessert was presented. The belgium waffle topped with fruit and cream was ridiculous: it was light and crispy like the pork rinds, with zero bready gummy inside. It melted in our mouths as Delecta and I performed the only version of post-sex cuddling we'll do. Damn it, so good.
I think we agreed to return, just for pork rinds and waffle desserts. The pot de creme, or whatever it was, was great too but it was too much dessert. I told her later in the car that we should have waited for the other dessert for next time. She agreed, which means we'll have a next time there, soon.
I ordered coffee and downed two cups as we slowly finished the remaining dessert. The restaurant was emptying out, and D and I were still enjoying the other's conversation, locking eyes, covering our faces in laughter. We bantered more with the waitress server, who presented me with the bill. I paid using my debit card, her hinting she'd tell me where she was from if the tip was decent.
I had no problem leaving a hefty tip for the great service. 30% and away she went, smiling at the total as she said "Utah." FUCK, I knew it. Or I should've. Total for the night was under $200, tip and valet included.
Delecta was stuffed, but I looked at her belly (yumm) as we left the table and it didn't seem bloated. This tiny package of joy can handle her food, and two starchy beers! Awesome.
As we left, my car was waiting right outside. Hah, good valet boys. We hopped in and zipped off, Delecta mentioning how tired she was. Bummer, I was revving for more, but alas she works in the morning.
I hopped on the Kennedy expressway, forgetting I wasn't alone as my car accelerated to over 100 before leaving the on-ramp. I freaked a bit when I felt her freeze up, so I released the accelerator and got down to a normal 65. 10 minutes later, we pulled up to her place. Another 5 minutes of conversation and I took the hug she offered, watching her walk to her apartment door and disappear inside.
So I drove off, hungry for a longer night but lacking in decent people to hang out with. As I finished my drive, I thought about other places I'll take Delecta in the future. That's always a good thing to think about: food, good company, light and vulgar conversation.
I know many of you will be dissapointed in the Sane. You'll ask more questions, or beat me up for not sticking my tongue down her throat. I'd like to address that.
First of all, we've had 5 meals together, 2 lunches, 2 dinners, 1 community festival. I knew going in that she was off-limits, dealing with her own personal hell that she's going through. As a gentleman, I'm not one to EVER coopt a healing person's space.
Secondly, I'm aware of boundaries, too. If a woman doesn't show me the signs of physical attraction, I file them into friendship status. I don't pine for attractive and fun women who aren't into me for more than my friendship. I received dozens of emails about this today. You can press the issue, but I don't budge.
Third, I like her company. Just because she's pretty with a hot bod doesn't mean I have any desire to go beyond what we have now. We're pals, we're comfortable, and I'm not dating anyone right now, so dinner with a good buddy is better than dinner without one.
If I find an in-town makeout buddy or friend-with-benefits, my time with Miss D will be more limited, but not over. She's too cool to put on a backburner!
I promise you all good rip-roaring sexual stories of lust and vulgarity, soon enough. I appreciate you watching my backs and reminding me of those needs. I agree with 2 of you that spending too much time with just a friend can satiate some of the dating need but leave other needs unfulfilled. You're both right. I'll address that by going out on more first dates, if I find people willing to go there.
So don't be mad at the Sane. Delecta has battled me for not allowing her to go Dutch. We worked out an agreement to fix that. She's not a gold-digger, and I invite her to these fine restaurants because that's the food _I_ demand. She works a real job, and weekly outings to top rated restaurants is not in her budget. It's in mine.
I'll work harder at finding a mouth to smooch on and a body to adore. I need to, I miss having the company of a lovely lady that I can ravage after a great night out. But at the moment, I would miss having an equal who can join me for dinner. Delecta fulfills the latter perfectly with no pressure on being the former.
Accept it for what it is. I do.
And send me your single friends' email addresses, there's always room in my belly for more first date dinners.