For a short time in my life, when I would see someone out who was eating alone I would feel bad for them. Now I think it's great. That takes an enormous level of not giving a fuck what people think about you. High five, lady who takes advantage of senior discount Tuesday!
This Summer, I am spending an extended period of time with my in-laws so that they can have grandchildren (and super fun daughter-in-law) time whilst Dreamy Eyes is home focusing/ starting his second year of medical school. (Cue the dad and wife tears)
As a small digression, let me also note that I like to eat my feelings. They are not always sadness. Sometimes they are joy, boredom, anger, homesickness, or liberation. But they all taste like cheese and my in-laws happen to live in America's dairy land.
Tonight, on my second to last night before dad and I start our 1000+ mile road trip with the twins and what I'm sure will be another blog, I went out for some of what was promised to be the town's best french onion soup, at the Best Western.
I am no stranger to this joint. I have been here a few times with my mother-in-law's Friday coffee group, who I relate to much more than my own cohorts. I may or may not have also sampled the hotel's wings on Thursdays. Anyway...
I had planned on a "me" date tonight, with some french onion soup and my feel-good book. So after I put the girls to bed I headed off to the local hotel restaurant where the bartender is shyly protective and the waitress was just named "Most Gullible" in her graduating class. I took my seat at the end of the bar so as not to take up an entire table. I chatted for a bit as I ordered, about how the local JCPenney just closed, so there is nothing left for a girl in this town, and then became mostly lost in my book and my $3 glass of wine.
The last time I went out on my own, my mother-in-law said I should wear a wedding ring (which I had been going without due to an apparent allergic reaction). This time I wore my band, even though I would be eating cheese covered soup, which we all know is a super attractive food.
As I was sitting there, thoroughly enjoying myself, I overheard a man talking about how odd it was for a girl to be reading at a bar. I thought they might be talking about me, but I didn't want to seem super conceited and look up. Then I heard the voice continue, saying that SOMEONE had to go and talk to "her", so I made it a point to start fiddling with my wedding band.
A few moments later, a man in a very bright Hawaiian shirt, who was at least 2 drinks ahead of me, was standing beside me. He asked how I could possibly read a book in a bar?! (I would not classify the restaurant at a Best Western as a "bar", seeing as I need zero cleavage to get the bartender to wait on me, and I had plenty of elbow room.) I told him that I have very young, noisy twins, so reading a book where no one needs to be changed nor breastfed is rather delightful.
He tried to keep making his way in by asking why I was here alone, without the babies' daddy. I replied that my HUSBAND was back in Maine, and I was here with my HUSBAND'S family. Having a husband didn't seem to phase the gentleman, nor did my very apparent wedding band fiddling, and he asked if he could buy me a drink. I pointed out that I already had one, but I would love some more soup (Thanks, 30 Rock!). I don't feel it's right to lead someone on, but since I had been quite clear about my relationship status, and the fact that he would not benefit from my drinking, I asked the bartender to fill half of my glass and charge it to Mr Fancy Shirt. Hey, why should couponing stop with shampoo?
Part of the reason I like going out on my own is that I get to observe other people. I like to catch snipits of their conversations. But once in a while I get a front seat to the entertainment. Being out of the dating world brings a whole new, wonderful level of not caring a bit what guys think of me, that I wish I had possessed when I was single. Empty compliments and cheap lines no longer flatter me in ways that they once unfortunately did. Mr Fancy Shirt talked for a bit about his work that had brought him to town, and I politely engaged, seeing as I was not in apparent danger and I like talking to people when they aren't trying to tell me who else they know with twins. At no point was I rude, but I no longer feel it cute to giggle and blush when men flirt with me (I WISH it didn't take being married to the most handsome guy on earth to find this confidence, but... bonus!).
Mr Fancy Shirt asked me about what I do for work, and then interrupted me to tell me that he can't even listen due to the fact that my eyes are SO gorgeous that they are just beyond distracting (this included some dramatic covering of his eyes and turning away from me). At this point another gentleman who was sitting opposite from me yelled "Hey! Mikey! You are taking too long to come back to your seat, so I'm drinking this shot without you!". Mr Fancy Shirt, a.k.a Mikey, ignored Chuck (Miss Gullible calls him by name a lot) and continued to stand around and awkwardly try to get me to swoon.
It was then that I turned to Mr Fancy Shirt and said "Excuse me, but I would like to clarify a few things. First, I did not interrupt you when you were telling me what you do for work, even though your mustache is highly distracting (gross), so I find it rude that you did not allow me to finish what I had been saying about my job. Second, while I appreciate the compliment about my eyes, I feel as if this is your "go to" line. It seemed rehearsed, and we both know that my big, pretty smile is my best feature, not my muted brown eyes. Third, it seems that I am not special in this situation, nor should I be due to my marital status, but if you also bought drinks for other people around the bar, you should stop excluding them in order to talk to me, especially since Chuck has piercing blue eyes that are actually gorgeous, but I somehow doubt that you are ignoring him because of his distracting eyes."
After a pause to take that all in, Mr Fancy Pants bid me adieu, asked for his meal to go, left his shot, and went up to his room. Apparently I had been the popular provider of the snipits tonight because the other 4 people sitting across from me at the bar raised their glasses in an "air cheers" with me and said they enjoyed that. Chuck told me that this was the first time he had ever seen a girl hold her own in an awkward situation like that, which was why he had tried to jump in and rescue me. I thanked him. It's comforting to know that there are people out there who look out for a girl who needs a way out of a situation, even a small one. But I went home with a big, pretty smile knowing that tonight, I was a girl who could rescue herself.
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