or at least the importance of using proper table manners as a way to get the date off to a good solid start.
I happened to be in Chicago this weekend for a writers workshop at Second City. While I was there I wanted to play around downtown. Shopping and running around the beach are not occasions where a play date is absolutely necessary but for dinner, I require company.
Its far too depressing to think I would have to eat alone, ordering room service while I am trying to enjoy a new city.
Alas, I chose poorly and was stuck with a bafoon. I was sitting literally across from a neo-paleontological humanoid who wouldn't use manners even if I cracked his cromagnum sized brain with a cave stick.
Apparently, driving a Maserati gives this phleeb a license to put his foot on the bench of the booth, be a bit arrogant to others, and talk about double D's being his preferred size but that I would do.
DO, what you freak?!!
He was insulted that I couldn't understand his words through the half chomped bites of steak in his mouth.
Aren't you listening to me?!
No, I actually tuned you out after the part about Barbie dolls and the fact that I am now mesmerized by the part of potato that left your mouth at warp speed and lodged itself in between the crevices on the stem of your water goblet.
I am sorry but if you have failed to master the simple task of proper eating habits. I can just assume, if we found ourselves in some sort of shared living arrangement, you would find it with in your comfort zone to speak to me whilst on the lu or try to grab my arse in public.
We don't do that!!
Nor do we talk with our mouths full!!
..and if you thought I was finished...
You would think that it wasn't necessary to specify in your conversation that smoking Mary Jane while driving me back to the Westin would be another no-no!!
But apparently, again, quite in the comfort zone of this guy!!
In a moment of this type of desperation, a stinky mini-van taxi would have felt like a Bentley.
Disgusted and maybe somewhat stoned, I found a new fondness for room-service. Run a hot tub, order a bottle of wine, put on the stereo, listen to Billy Holiday sing you the blues all the while smiling because you just made it to he-- and back without a scratch.
Blondes don't befriend beasts of burdens!!