Was chatting with the blond banker the other day.
Her: Did you just get out of a long-term relationship?
Me: Yeah, how’d you know?
Her: You’re normal.
Me: Most guys aren’t?
Man, is she gonna be disappointed. Or impressed. It can go either way.
Had dinner with another blonde on Alison’s birthday.
Was debating whether or not to go but, in the end, I decided to do it. After all, the alternative was just me drinking alone in my apartment; the boy had a sleepover with his sitter because I knew I’d be self-medicating.
We ended up heading to a French Bistro around the way. It was cool, we sat in these bubble-enclosed tables and it was oddly secluded and private, considering that we were surrounded by people.
I arrived first and she showed up just a few minutes later.
Me: Whoa, you look great.
Her: (laughs) Thanks.
We ended up ordering mussels, ribs, and escargot.
The last time I had escargot was May 18th, 2008. The girl in this entry was Alison. She didn’t remember meeting me. I didn’t mind because Mouse didn’t remember meeting me either.
It’s weird, but I pride myself on being the Grey Man most of the time.
We figured we’d just order more food as necessary.
Her: Do you wanna see me eat this whole thing?
Me: Nah, I wanna still find you attractive afterward.
The mussels came with fries but, because I was trying to be good, I asked for a salad instead. They brought both.
Waiter: Do you want to keep the fries?
Me: (sighing) Yes.
We also ordered an Old-Fashioned for me, a French Martini for her, and then, split a Chocolate Martini. She was really great company.
Afterward, we went to the Arthouse Hotel for some more drinks.
I ordered a daiquiri and she had an amaretto sour. The bartender said that both weren’t on the menu but that he’d whip them up for us.
I saw him taste each one (with a single-use straw) so I knew they were going to be good.
It was pretty empty so we had the whole place to ourselves.
Her: I loved someone once.
Me: Was it love or something a lot like love?
Her: I’m not sure any more. I thought it was then. How can you tell?
Me: Time, I guess. I don’t think you ever really fall out of true love.
The drinks were so good, in fact, that just before we left, I commended him on them. He beamed from ear-to-ear. Random kindness from strangers is always a good thing.
Before we left, we sat on the couch in the bar and chatted a bit more before stopping by my pad for more rum and conversation.
It was just past midnight when she called an Uber to head home.
Me: Thanks for the company. I had a great night.
Her: Me too.
The next day, I had a business meeting in Connecticut with my buddy Thor. We’re potentially doing a little bit of work together on a project. Potentially.
I was still hungover when I boarded the train but he met me at the station.
Me: I need protein and coffee. Do you have like a protein bar at home?
Him: I have coffee and I’ll make you some eggs.
What he made me was a killer frittata, which I inhaled. After the coffee and food, we got down to brass tacks.
It was just before four when we finished up.
I offered to pick us up dinner and he brought me to a pizza joint.
Him: The pizza in Connecticut is probably better than the pizza in NYC.
Me: You’re dead to me now.
It was delicious OR I just thought it was because it was the first time I’d had pizza in over three months.
Figured that, since I ate the fries the night before, in for a penny, in for a pound.
I made the train with five minutes to spare, got home, showered, and just as I finished getting dressed, the boy and his sitter walked in the door.
Him: Papa! I went to Coney Island and had a Nathan’s hot dog!
Me: (laughing) Let’s get grandma on Skype and you can tell us both all about it.
Chad and I’ve been busy shooting more Scenic Fights stuff.
Subscribe and like the videos so I can quit my non-existent day job.
Location: earlier today, wondering where we were
Music: if I could I’d change but you were that one that wanted this (Spotify)
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6 Replies to “A New York French Bistro and a Connecticut Italian Pizzeria”
All that food looks so good!
It was SOOOOOOOOO good. I’m now hungry again.
For the pretty blondie who’s not sure what true love is:
Let’s just say I married 9 men in my life unofficially. The last time I saw my first love was 13. He died when he was 17. After he joined the Canadian army. We never even dated in real life. Just chatted on the phone for 3 months and played Starcraft together.
I’ve decided to change my legal last name to his once Covid is over.
That’s super tragic to hear about your first love. I don’t have any background as to the changing of the last name but if you feel that’s the right thing for you to do, you should do it.
See? Weirdly good pizza in Connecticut. Also, ribs at a French joint?! Whoa.
It’s a global world we’re living in, Mark.