Out on the Town
On Saturday, JG took me out to a new (to us) restaurant as a sort of extended Valentine’s Day celebration. The evening was a special outing, so we took the time to dress up and even made a reservation online. I looked pretty darn sassy, if I say so myself, but the snowy, slippery streets were not easy to navigate with my pointy boots. I hung on to JG’s hand for dear life as I slid down the five blocks between our parking spot and the restaurant. He looked at me grimly before suggesting that maybe I had worn the wrong shoes. I retorted, “I look cute, right? These are the right shoes.� It wasn’t pretty, but we managed to get me to the restaurant in one piece and mostly snow-free.
The dining room was mood-lit with tea-lights and contemporary back-lighting and the service was wonderfully attentive, with the exception of a strangly absent waitress, who was either being trained or training someone new, either of which left her accordingly frazzled. The food was very tasty and just the right level of fancy. I loved feeling classier than normal. Wearing heels and ordering more than one course of food will do that for a girl, I think. “We should definitely come back here sometime,� I said, spearing a piece of pork tenderloin.
Throughout the evening, though, I had a sneaking suspicion that JG wasn’t having that much fun, that he was just getting through the night for me. I ask him to take me out to new, nicer places, but sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it if he doesn’t genuinely enjoy it with me. I also fear that asking to be taken out like that places me in the category of Demanding Girls, which is a thought I do not savor.
For dessert, we ordered crème brûlée and after it arrived, I asked JG what he thought of the restaurant. He cracked through the sugary crust and said, “It’s not really my thing to go to such a fancy place. I mean, this food is great, but I probably could have used two entrées. I’m glad you liked it, though.�
Ha.
So there’s our understanding. Periodically, we’ll go out to dinner to a nicer place where I can dress up and feel fancy. We’ll both know that it won’t be the quantity of food that JG would prefer, but I will be lavish in expressing my appreciation for the change of pace and degree of sacrifice on his part. As long as we’re on the same page, it’s all good with me.
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