Amy goes to dinner
So four days ago I told you I was sitting at home contemplating the note that my mysterious stranger had left me. I was trying to decide whether to heed the words in the note and rush off to dinner at an exclusive and expensive restaurant, or whether to stop playing the Mysterious stranger’s game and stay home.
As you may remember the note was pretty darn vague, not unlike my mysterious stranger. All it offered was a location, a time and the suggestion of an answer. However I’m sure you will understand my reluctance to attend just to get answers given how reluctant Number One had been to give me answers before then.
So what did I decide to do? I went along of course. I figured at best I’d get myself a nice meal and some long overdue answers, at worst I’d still get a nice meal I had to pay for myself. Hardly a big risk either way.
With the Grand Central Hyatt being a, shall we say, up market, restaurant I figured I better put a little effort into my appearance, so out came the little black dress. Now I’m no supermodel, I know this and can happily live with it, (decent guys don’t want supermodels anyway from what I hear), but without sounding too modest I really do rock that little black number that hangs in the back corner of my closet for special occasions.
With the LBD, some heels, a bit of make up and a half decent home blow dry I scrub up pretty well and looking in the mirror I scrubbed up better than what I honestly thought Number One deserved. Up until the moment I left the house I still wasn’t entirely sure I was going through with the dinner date, but once the door was shut the idea of not showing up seemed to fade from my mind.
I was met at the front door of the Grand Central Hyatt by a sharp man in a red suit asking me if I had a reservation. Obviously I couldn’t say I was dining with Number One so instead I looked around the room, found my mysterious stranger sitting alone at table in the corner, pointed to him and said, “I’m with him.”
I sauntered over to the table, I may not be a supermodel but I could feel a few eyes on me as I walked. I made a bee line straight for the table Number One was sitting at and just as I was about pull the chair out a waiter appeared and pulled it out for me. I was impressed.
Somewhere between leaving home and arriving at the restaurant I decided I would let Number One run the conversation, he wrote the note, he offered the olive branch (was it an olive branch or a thorned rose stem?) so he could initiate the conversation.
“Hello Amy. I’m glad you came. I hate eating alone.”
Hello was all I said.
“You look stunning. I was hoping you’d wear that dress.”
What the hell? Hoping to wear this dress? Had Number One also taken a tour of my walk in robe? I tried not to think about that thought as I picked up the menu. As I read the menu Number One poured me a glass of wine having already ordered what he assumed I would like to drink.
‘Dammit, he ordered right,’ I though whilst reading but said nothing.
“Order what you like, everything on the menu is wonderful.”
Ok so I wont bore you with the full details of ordering, eating and chatting. What I will say though is that the Twice Cooked Bourbon and Honey Pork Belly is AMAZING! I’ll also tell you that between ordering, being served and eating we spoke about very little. Number One threw me a number of compliments, compliments I started out taking as flattery but quickly realised they were actually as heart felt as anything else he’d ever said. He spoke about the weather, which was not overly exciting and he spoke about how much he liked my house. The conversation was weird but some how lasted the entire time we ate.
Just as we were finishing up desert, Chocolate Rice Crackle with Coffee Mousse and Hazelnuts, he asked me if I wanted to go dancing as he had suggested in the note. Now I have to admit the evening had been great, had been better than great, but I was still somewhat frustrated that Number One had not fulfilled his end of the bargain before inviting me dancing. Sure I could have asked him for the answered I seeked at any time during the night but as I told you I was letting him steer this ship, I was only along for the ride, and the nice meal.
“What’s the matter babe?” he asked as I refused to answer his question about the dancing.
I decided to throw him a life preserver off the boat he was floating.
“I think there is a few other promises you need to fulfil before we worry about the dancing part of your note.”
Number One looked at me as if I’d just asked him to re-write War and Peace as a comedy. Then as he realised how serious I was he took a deep breath and said.
“I guess we better order coffee.”