The Rip-off Tip-off

I messaged Paul soon after we matched on Bumble because I can never quite seem to resist a blonde, herculean gentleman complete with a healthy beard and an Adonis-like figure. Clearly, I have a type.

Paul wasted no time in replying and before I knew it we had set a date for the following Wednesdayto have dinner at a swanky new restaurant called The Upland in the Gramercy district of NYC.

When I arrived at the restaurant Paul was patiently waiting for me near the hostess stand and I was pleased to discover that his appearance had exceeded my expectations. He was just as delectable looking in the flesh as on my iPhone screen.

Paul and I were seated at a table that was in a slightly awkward position smack in the middle of the restaurant. He mentioned that he would like to ask to sit at another table, but given the fact that the restaurant was at full capacity with a line out the door, we decided our table would do just fine.

After sipping on some stiff Manhattans and Pisco Sours, we put an order in for a salmon tartar, hummus crostini and a pear and endive salad followed by a beef short rib that we decided to split with a side of ratatouille.

Though Paul seemed to be a lovely human being (especially to look at), I didn’t sense that there was much going on between his ears as we began discussing the movies that we had recently viewed.

“Last week I watched a really good movie called ‘Frost/Nixon’ about the Watergate scandals,” I said.

“Oh. I don’t know what that is,” he replied, puzzled.

“You know, the whole thing that caused president Nixon to leave  office?”

“Ummm….not sure what you are referring to.”

Despite his blatant ignorance for American history, the dinner was lovely as well as the company. Though I wasn’t completely head over heels for Paul at that particular moment, he did ask me to join him again for drinks the following weekend and I thought it was worth another shot.

Paul paid the bill, and like a gentleman assisted me in putting on my jacket.

Immediately after we exited the restaurant to get into a taxi our waitress came running after us shouting Paul’s name with the billfold in hand. Paul seemed to scurry into the cab, but thinking he forgot his credit card or to sign the bill I waited outside the car to see what the fuss was about.

The sweet and very attentive waitress looked rather perturbed as she held up the credit card receipt and leaned into the car to speak to Paul.

“You know Mr. Paul, I am very sorry that you weren’t  satisfied with the table you were given but if you were that upset about it you could have asked the hostess to be moved. I do not have any say on where people are seated in the restaurant so punishing me for it just isn’t fair. I hope you have a wonderful evening.”

She handed me the credit card receipt and indignantly marched back to work.

Confused, I read the receipt and then figured out the reason for her outright fury.

On the line where the tip should have been there was a big fat ‘0’ and next to it Paul had written,  “Service was great but we had the worst table in the house!”

I retreated back into the restaurant and left the waitress $30 in cash. She graciously thanked me for the tip and I thanked her for tipping me off that Paul was a complete asshole.

Thankfully,  the taxi had left by the time I returned.

[Way] Too Fast, Too Furious

After a reasonably satisfying first date with Jared I accepted his invitation for a second the very next weekend to join him for dinner.

Jared was a slender, Greenwich village dwelling tax attorney with  sarcastic wit and positively compelling intelligence. Though he didn’t fit the traditional description of what I considered ‘my type,’ I found myself with an appetite to get more familiar with him.

Jared took me to a lovely Italian restaurant called Serafina in the Meatpacking District of Manhattan.  We feasted on mussels cooked in white wine sauce, white truffle mushroom risotto, and tagliatelle bolognese with a glass of sambuca to finish things off.

Overall the evening went quite prosperously and when Jared suggested we stop by his apartment for a harmless night cap I graciously obliged.

When we entered his apartment I leaned over to loosen the ties on my stilettos to finally find relief from the agonizing pain that is breaking in a new pair of high heels.

As I ascended, I found Jared standing disturbingly close to me and  completely encroaching upon my bubble of personal space to the point where I felt I may actually take a tumble into the wall behind me.

He intrusively planted a kiss directly on my lips, instantaneously picked me up off the ground, threw me over his shoulder and paraded me into his bedroom while nonsensically giggling. Before I knew it he had thumped me on his mattress and once again aggressively pursued my mouth.

At once I catapulted off the bed.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked furiously.

“Oh come on! I was just being playful! I thought we had a good time. What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong me ME? I barely know you. We haven’t even kissed yet and you think it’s OK to throw me on your bed? Way too much too fast!”

“I don’t know why you’re freaking out. It’s not a big deal. You need to calm down.”

I expeditiously gathered my shoes and my jacket to make a break for the elevator and into an Uber.

Clearly the next day he still didn’t get it. So much for his compelling intelligence.




Election Anti-Erection

While flipping through my Tinder account waiting for the L train I came across a profile of a girl named Lauren. Lauren, a petite brunette who was apparently gainfully employed in the public relations field had one too many pictures donning suspiciously oversized sunglasses for my liking, but I figured I’d roll the dice and give it a right swipe.

We ended up matching and after messaging back and forth over my lunch break we agreed to meet the following evening for a cocktail after the workday was over.

I picked a spot in the Refinery Hotel since it is close to her office and inconspicuously snuck out of work just after 5:30 to make sure I beat the happy hour crowd for two seats at the bar for our 6 o’clock rendezvous.

Lauren texted me several minutes later telling me she had arrived at said establishment. I stood up in search of a petite brunette but unfortunately I saw nothing of the sort. Instead I was approached by a much, much…..much larger version of woman I made plans with the evening prior.

Not wanting to be a complete asshole,  I offered her a menu and summoned the bartender to fetch her beverage of choice.

We soon got to talking about our life stories and the way we both coincidentally were born in the midwest and somehow made it to the sensational capital of the universe that is New York City while we sipped on whiskey sours and vodka cranberries.

“So the election is coming soon. Who are you voting for?” Laura asked inquisitively.

“Oh gosh, To be honest I don’t really support either of them. I am so sick of this election I can’t wait to be over. I may not even vote.”

This admission was apparently an atrocious mistake.

“I mean, I think not voting at all is like voting for Trump. Not voting for Hillary is a vote against her because it only helps Trump.”

“Like I said, I don’t really know what I am going to do. I don’t support Trump and I don’t support Hillary,” I replied as my desperate attempt to avoid the ever so annoying and ubiquitous presidential election conversation.

“So you don’t support women having rights to their own body? Or income equality? I am a woman and I deserve to have every right that a man has in this country.” She said fervently. “I am sorry, but I think I will have to excuse myself. There is no way I can date someone who can inadvertently support a bigot like Donald Trump.”

Speechless, I beckoned the bartender to bring me the bill as I have never been mored turned off by another human being in my 32 years on this planet.

Lauren rummaged through her purse and retrieved her wallet. Being the old school gentleman that I am, it is not in my DNA to allow a woman to pay on a first date (or any date for that matter), but being that she was so incredibly passionate about men and women having equal rights I gladly placed my credit card alongside hers in the billfold.

“Well, that was fun,” I said sarcastically.

“Oh and what a gentleman you are to let the lady help pay the bill.”

Cleary, that was the last I will ever see of Lauren…hopefully.


The FroYo NoGo

After getting to know Dan for a few months, it appeared to be progressing well enough for me to be introduced to his parents who were flying in from his home town across the pond to visit for a week one summer.

Ever so eager to be a good host, Dan consulted my assistance to come up with an enjoyable itinerary for his mother and father who had contrasting ideas of what was considered entertainment.

I am fortunate enough to live in a lovely apartment building with a  roof deck that boasts cabanas and grills for barbecuing, sand volleyball/tennis courts and of course, fantastic views of the Empire State building. It is quite the hopping place to be amongst my fellow residents on a warm summer evening so Dan requested that we dine on my roof for our inaugural meeting.

Bring on the parents!

Wanting to make an exquisite first impression, I went to the store to purchase the most finely marbled cuts of beef tenderloin, skewers of fresh prawns and a motley crew of vegetables for a  delectably kaleidoscopic salad. For dessert, I prepared caramelized grilled peaches topped with french vanilla ice cream drizzled with caramel.

And booze. Booze goes without saying…duh.

Needless to say, I put forth quite the effort (and cash) to ensure the evening was an absolute success.

And it was. The food was fabulous (if I do say so myself), and the whole night went of without a hitch.

The day after Dan’s parents left we decided indulge ourselves in some delicious tacos at a local Mexican establishment that we frequented. As usual, we split the bill at the end of the meal, though I was honestly quite surprised given the production I had put on to entertain his company the evening prior.

When we left the restaurant Dan suggested we satiate our palates with some FroYo. This is where you have an over abundant amount of flavors of frozen yogurt as well as toppings to choose from and you put together your own. We decided to split a medium cup to reduce our already high caloric intake for the day.

After we put the finishing touches on our frosted confectious creation of birthday cake and salted caramel ice cream topped with Oreos and gummy bears (don’t judge me), we approached the counter to weigh it on the scale and submit our payment.

It was at this time that Dan picked up the cup of FroYo, took a big bite, and walked towards the exit.

Stunned, I was left to pay for the ice cream that HE suggested we get.

And for the cherry on top (no pun intended), he didn’t even have decency to open the door for me on he way out OR say thank you for treating him.

Hey Dan, way to be a gentleman. Hopefully this is you. Forever.