Squeeeeeeak

Last night, VAP and I went to dinner at McCormick and Schmick's. I had the Maryland crab soup (delicious and peppery--perfect with the sourdough bread) and the fried catfish with remoulade and rock shrimp. Virginia had a gorgeous mixed green salad (which I pilfered) and a beautiful broiled seafood plate. Dessert was the superstar though: I had a trio of mini-desserts including a brioche bread pudding, a 3-berry cobbler with ice cream, and a creme brulee. VAP got a glass of mixed berries. DELISH!

The real fun started after dinner though, while we were waiting for the valet to pull up with my battered truck. In front of us was a canoodling couple, fresh off the pages of an Abercrombie ad. Behind us was a toothpick of a girl, with bright shiny hair, flawless makeup, and a chichi size 0 outfit. Behind her was a group of similarly glamorous 20-somethings chattering like magpies and shouting into Blackberries. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach when I realized that my front door screeches like a cat on a stove when opened, and all these glamazons were about to hear it. This triggered a wave of Betty Rubble-like giggling from me, my infamous "hee hee hee" that I find completely mortifying. They all turned to look at me and the amorous couple glided off to their gray Mercedes. Hee hee hee... here came my Montero, plastered with FSU decals and a grapefruit-sized dent on the side facing us. Hee hee hee... squeeeeeeeak. All of a sudden I wasn't the only one giggling and VAP and I couldn't escape fast enough. Mental note: find and use WD-40.

BTW, D is making me dinner Sunday night, and we're going to a movie. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Bulgogi. Yumminess on rice. I just learned that I've been saying it wrong for 33 years! It should be pronounced BU-gol-gi, not Bu-GOL-gi. Did you know that? Well then, you learned something today, didn't you?

Still haven't heard from Chef Boyardee. Apparently, flirty emails may or may not work to procure the elusive 2nd date. Hopefully he's just busy, but who knows what the rules are anymore? Chris, my love doctor, tells me to just chill out, and that I'm already thinking about this too much. If that's the case, am I a nutjob? Am I destined to a future of late-night stalkings and spending my free time making gouaches of my victims' photographs?

I'll keep you posted.

First Dates... ugh!

So, it hasn't been that long since I've finally smelled the proverbial coffee and moved on from a 10+ year "relationship" to face the single-girl world on my own. My first dip back in the dating pool was last night, with a cute chef at my hospital who we'll call D.

We first met in April, when he was my catering manager for a big graduation reception. The sight of him in his crisp white chef's coat and arrogantly crossed arms as he surveyed the buffet table was enough to make me swoon (inwardly, at least). He went over the menu again with me, asked questions about the service schedule, but all I could do was concentrate on smile and how much he looks like Brendan Frasier. Fast forward through hundreds of dull, then flirty, then date-y emails, and I found myself at a little Italian restaurant with him, debating the most appropriate small talk and feminine-yet-delicious-yet-easy-to-eat meal.

Surprisingly, we talked about everything, and he even invited me to go camping with him and some friends (it was really hard not to choke on my Pinot Grigio... imagine me peeing in a hole in the woods?). My veal piccata was light and tangy, with a side of fettucine and gently toasted garlic on top. Dessert was a gorgeous limoncello tart with raspberry coulis drizzled over it... yum. By the end of the meal, I noticed D furtively glancing at "the girls" and I started daydreaming about the perfect first kiss. Back at the hospital parking garage, we came to a stop by my parked mess-mobile and we dawdled over the view, the heat, and a somewhat awkward hug. No talk of a next date, not much beyond the usual, "That was fun" comments from both of us.

I drove home deflated. I looked as good as I possibly could: makeup, earrings, perfect boobie dress, and yet I had no idea if he was interested or not. This morning, I had an email from him thanking me for going out with him. Strange, I thought, as I replied. He remarked that a security guard passed his office and stared at him for a while, and I shot back with, "Maybe he was reviewing the tapes from the garage last night and he thinks you should have kissed me too." A couple more flirty emails, and I think we're going out again soon.

Too forward? We'll see. :)