I moved back to Chicago about three years ago, after enduring the infinite grayness and death-of-my-soul atmosphere in Detroit, Michigan for most of my 20's. Sorry, Detroiters. Like that maverick presidential candidate John McCain, I only drive the Straight Talk Express.
When I moved here, I had about 1.5 friends leftover from the carefree, post-college era who didn't get married and move to a much larger residence near an expressway and a Super Target. These days, I have a few more friends and of course, the blessed husband but to me, variety is the spice of life. I need a little girl action. I need a dinner club.
Recently, the husband and I attended a few gatherings of friends of friends...of friends. In situations where the crowd is comprised of more than what I call the "trunk," and extends to "branches," women tend to do one of two things. Talk to only those they know and stare a little too long at your slightly stained cashmere sweater that you may or may not have pulled out of the dirty laundry before you arrived....or, smile and introduce themselves. Recently, the latter happened. And it was ON.
I met someone. And it was magical. And I'm now in a DINNER CLUB. At first, a bit nervous. What will I bring to the dinner club? Can I slide under the radar and just be a side dish? Will I have to debut as an entree? Sweet Jesus, will I be dessert? Hiding my dirty clothing is one thing, but the cooking disability cannot be outed this early. These details are vital to the success of any first date with a woman.
Turns out, it's a restaurant dinner club. I knew it was meant to be.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
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1 comments:
Meg, I totally feel ya, and I congratulate you on finding some female companionship. Within the last 3 years, my 5 closest friends have all moved away, and I too have been trying to figure out how to pick up women. A restaurant dinner club would be ab fab. I must find out if such a thing exists here in SoCal!
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