Scenes From A Non-Date

Imaginary Internet Friends, you asked for it. plus also i needed a procrastination device. which means i can now present you with an illustration of my evening with a blog-stalker! yay!

but first, a few words.

this was not a Date because CalifSkip and i are Just Friends for many reasons not the least of which is that he lives in LA. and i totally did enough long-distance dating in college to last me the rest of my life thankyouverymuch. and so it being a non-date took all the pressures of Dating off and allowed me to feel comfortable which meant that instead of talking a mile a minute and trying desperately to activate any of my filters (the way i might on an Actual First Date), i spoke at an alarmingly faster rate and rejected any sort of filters whatsoever. because i am the epitome of breezy elegance.

anyway, CS was here in town for a wedding, so we agreed to meet at the bar atop his hotel because it has amazing views of the city. (of course i would NEVER go there if i were not with someone from out-of-town because that is not what people who live in SF do. we also do not go to fisherman's wharf. or wear shorts. we do ride the cable car, but that involves much scowling at the tourists who are riding it "for fun" as opposed to riding it to get from point A to point B.)

so right, the bar is mostly worth it for the views. SF is stunningly beautiful, especially at dusk with the softly purple fog rolling in. (made even more spectacular with a martini, of course.)

unfortunately, the bar is almost not worth it because it is a hotel bar. and this means you have hotel bartenders, who may or may not know what they're doing. if the hotel is uber-chic, the bartenders can be outstanding. however, if the hotel is uber-touristy (like this one), you're more likely to run into bartenders who look at you quizzically when you inquire about their top-shelf gins. which they won't have.

(i will interrupt myself here to acknowledge that i can, on occassion, be high-maintenance when it comes to ordering cocktails.)

the same bartender might then give you olives even though you requested a twist, which might then make you have to send it back because you hate Hate HATE olives so very much.

(and here is where i will admit further obnoxiousness on my part. a very good bartender would, after having erroneously put olives in the drink, discard the entire cocktail and start fresh with the twist because he would know the olives had already gotten their horrible juice all over my gin. and while i would never demand this, i do secretly wish for it every time it happens.)

and then that bartender, instead of discarding your entire drink, might return your same drink to you with the twist...AND the olives. at which point you might have to shake your head a bit. and then take the olives out of the drink and mention, politely, "oh, it's just that i prefer the twist because i do not like olives." and he might then ask you, "oh? you don't want olives at all?" and you might then wonder how it is possible he is a bartender.

but at least by then the matter will have been settled. and it will be fine because CS will eat your olives and you won't have to worry about them anymore.

and plus you can start fresh with the next round.

anyway, another thing about this bar is that there is a dance floor. and the thing about hotel bars with dance floors is that you never know who might decide that it is a good idea to dance on them. in our case, while it was still light out and the dance floor was otherwise completely empty, a man and woman decided they would make the most of the latin music.

the man was probably in his early 60s and not in very good shape. he was ruddy-faced and sweating. he was wearing a very bright, obnoxiously patterned shirt that men who are that age and have money seem to wear for completely inexplicable reasons. he had bushy white-grey hair. and he could not, for the life of him, dance.

especially not to latin music.

with him was a woman at least 25 years younger who appeared to actually be latin. and she was busty. and she had on a very tight-fitting dress and had very long hair and sort of knew what she was doing on the dance floor. which only made the sight of her with the man more painful. and obvious.

because while maybe they were a couple very much in love, i sort of got the e-s-c-o-r-t feel. ya' know?

anyway, it was otherwise uneventful (in the sense that i didn't fall or spill anything or make a complete fool out of myself) (that i know of). and evil olives and tourists and escorts and fog aside, it was a lovely meeting and a fabulous way to discover that at least one of you is not entirely imaginary.

hurrah!