Last Friday I had a date with Prince Charming’s third cousin twice removed, Adam. He looks like he was born on Cape Cod: perfectly European, blonde, 6’2”, great smile, and he knew it. He wore me down over the next three hours, talking about learning the Viennese Waltz in Austria, training for the FBI until he got recruited by some rich politician’s buddy, crashing Jerry Springer’s pool party, and travelling to all the corners of the earth. Oh, and I heard several times how much money he makes and how important he is. I also learned that a 6-bedroom, 3-car garage McMansion costs as much in Florida as a small one level Craftsman in Portland…but who the heck wants to live in Florida?? (Please take no offense, native Floridians; I am a 4-season kind of girl.) Not me. I barely got two sentences in, and that is really something, considering how much I like to talk about myself. (Perhaps there was a lesson in all of this?)
In the end I was clawing at the walls to get out of there, and when he graciously said he could go for another glass of wine, I almost smashed my glass and slit my wrists right there. Instead I told him I had an early morning and asked him if we could get the bill. The amount for what I drank was $9; his was $26. He asked me to split it. I handed him a ten and got the hell out of there. What a gentleman!