So I head from Patton II again. It was after Thanksgiving but before Christmas. I had totally written him off, after potentially hurting his feelings, telling him he looked like Mickey Rourke. Anyway, the holidays were around the corner, I was feeling lonely and I desperately wanted to enjoy the downtown scenery. Patton asked if he should pick me up or if we should meet. Since he lives downtown, I told him it would be fine if we just met. Patton picked Cucina Toscana. On a side note, I find it a huge turn on when men make the decision on where we are going or what we are going to do. I absolutely loath the "where do you want to go?" Anyway, I didn't recognize the restaurant but Patton told me it was on Pierpont Avenue, so I had an idea what is was and the kind of restaurant it was.
Like any girl, butterflies set in and I turned my Saturday into an all day spa day in preparation for my big night. Time clicked by quickly and I realized that I had better get going. I dressed accordingly, wearing designer jeans, a multi-colored cardigan that tied delicately at the chest and my favorite riding boots. I definitely didn't want to be overdressed and I was pleased at my mid-range attire. I get to the place where I think we are eating at and the address doesnt match. I am mortified. I was right on time, but now I had no idea where the restaurant was. I quickly googled the restaurant and realized that it was blocks away. It was dark and it had started raining. I had parked at work which was blocks away in the wrong direction, so I decided I would just start walking. I get to the restaurant late and a quick glance at my reflection in the glass window finds my hair is flat and sticking together in wet clumps. I decide there is no turning back so I just go in with my biggest smile.....but then my mouth drops. The restaurant is gorgeous and the patrons are even more beautiful. Men are wearing suits and the women look like they just stepped off the red carpet. Many had on formal wear. I look down at my outfit and feel completely under dressed. I see Patton and I apologize for being late and for my attire. He downplays it nicely and we get seated. Patton orders wine for us (another thing I love) and insists on a certain kind of appetizer. Already nervous and upset about how the night has started, I down my first glass a wine. I hadn't ate since the morning and the wine instantly put me back into a very chatty mood. Patton again does his usual quiet stare down. I wish I knew him better. Maybe that was normal behavior for him. For me, it as torture. I went over the various topics that I had pre-planned on talking about, until our appetizer came. Patton told me to go ahead and gave me various instructions. It looked like some type of bread dish with various sauces. The bread looked a bit unusual having a deep baking ridge down the center. Patton told me that he enjoys the dish by pouring the sauce over the bread. I looked at him while thinking about it. What an odd thing to do......but maybe that is why the bread had the groove in it right? The next thing you know, I pick up the sauce and pour it all over the bread loaf. Patton about spit out the wine he was sipping and said: "No, not the whole thing, you cut off a piece and do it individually." Needless to say, I was mortified. The sauce flowed over the sides and through the wicker basket lining and onto the table. I debated on walking out, but the wine had kicked in and I was relaxed enough to make a joke about it. Patton insisted our linen be changed. I replayed the incident over and over and figured at least he would have a good story to tell his friends.
The rest of the night went without incident. Patton drove me to my car and I saved him the awkward or obligatory kiss. I told him he was a good sport and that I appreciated the lovely evening. Without emotion, Patton told me that he would like to see me again but that he would be especially busy over the next few weeks because of the holidays. Yeah, sure...I said as I hoped out of his car and started walking toward mine. I didn't want him to think he needed to say or do anything to make me feel better, especially something that he would most likely not follow up with. The little girl in me wanted to cry, the teenager in me wanted to laugh but the woman in me went home and chalked it up to just another one of my "learning experiences."
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