Yeah, so, mighty, mighty good man David got a new job!
He’s really excited, and I am super proud of him. He’s the marketing communications director for a visual effects software company with offices in Bulgaria and Los Angeles. Don’t worry. We’re not moving. David is going to be their man in San Francisco. They hired him just in time for a road show promoting their software, so David is going to be doing a lot of traveling this month. He’s going to be gone for a total of three weeks this month. That sucks, and he will be missed. While he is traveling the world, I will watch baseball and binge watch “Orange Is The New Black” in between Calvin’s episodes of “Thomas the Tank Engine.”
To celebrate his new gig, we went lined up a Calvin sitter on Friday night and went out to dinner to a cozy French restaurant in our neighborhood, Le P’tit Laurent. I love this restaurant. It really does remind me of Paris. It’s small space, and the tables are close together. When we were in Paris, the tables in all the restaurants were so close together. It wasn’t unusual for fellow restaurant patrons to strike up conversations with each other. We had dinner with a lot of interesting people while we were there.
David and I were in a corner table and not really close to other tables, which was fine by us. We were in quiet spot to talk to each other and still people watch. At the table behind me were two couples: A older man (maybe in his early 50s) and his wife, and her sister and her sister’s man. I never caught the man’s name so let’s call him the Chatterbox.
They were kinda loud, but not obnoxious loud. Still, we overheard that the Chatterbox and his wife were in town to celebrate their anniversary. He said something so sweet (sadly, we couldn’t hear that part) that his wife loud said, “AWWWW!” and then they proceeded to make out for an excessive amount of time. It went on so long that the sister-in-law took out her phone. She was probably tweeting, “At the most awkward dinner ever,” while her man stared out the window.
At some point, Chatterbox started talking to the two older ladies at their neighboring table. The Chatterbox and his wife are from Chicago, and they were in San Francisco to celebrate their wedding anniversary, he told them. He didn’t want to have dinner in Union Square. He wanted to see “the real San Francisco,” so his sister-in-law took him to Le P’tit Laurent in Glen Park for dinner. Interesting. I thought everyone considered the Mission to be the “real San Francisco” now. I mean, that’s what I keep reading on the internet, and the internet wouldn’t lie to me.
Anyway, his table’s food arrived, and they ate their food, while Chatterbox shared his life story with the two ladies. He’s from Chicago. He and his wife are high school sweethearts, who reconnected and now they are married. Did he mention that they are celebrating their anniversary? He invited the women to come to Chicago, and he would show them the real Chicago. He took his phone out. He showed them photos. He didn’t touch his food. The rest of the table was quietly eating their dinner. This went on and on. The waiter came and took everyone’s plates away, which was a huge hint that he should probably eat. He shoveled a couple bites of his food into his mouth, in between stories about how awesome Napa is, “the real San Francisco,” and “the real Chicago.”
He completely alienated his wife, sister-in-law and her man. They were clearly annoyed. Over the course of the meal, we watched Chatterbox go from the world’s best husband to the worst. Finally, Chatterbox and the rest of the gang paid the check and they left, but he made sure to get the ladies numbers so when they come to Chicago, he can show them “the real Chicago.”
Me: “Oh man. That man just ruined their evening.”
David: “He did. Did you notice he didn’t have an upper lip? You can’t trust people who don’t have an upper lip.”
Me: “That man just talked his way out of serious action. It’s their anniversary and they’re on vacation. He probably could have gone back to the hotel room and asked for anything and he would have got it. He could have gotten ass play.”
David: “Umm, did you just say ‘ass play’?”
David: “I thought so.”
Me: “That’s when Sonia ruined our nice romantic dinner by talking about ass play.”
I didn’t really ruin our dinner. David thought it was funny. I don’t think he is ever surprised by the inappropriate things that come out of my mouth, especially after two glasses of red wine.