The last time my husband and I arranged a little Melbourne rendezvous, there was a slight change of plans after a bout of gastro turned my children into extras from The Exorcist while I flapped about in denial yelling “It’s okay, I’m sure it’s just a sore tummy!”
It was in similarly sweltering conditions last night that I gingerly ventured into the city, praying to the date night gods to “Please let me have nice things!”
After a few leisurely beverages and some lengthy discussion on which over-hyped restaurant with a confusing reservation policy to try first, we made our way to a Mexican place uptown.
Now it’s possible my perceptions were skewed thanks to the date night pressure to enjoy oneself in the shortest few hours known to man, but I’m confused why anyone would choose to stand on a stairwell for over an hour for a fish taco and some grilled corn.
Have some restaurant proprietors not heard of taking down a mobile number so one can maintain a little self respect and go wait in a bar? ‘We shall make the people wait on a steep staircase and they will tell everyone how long they had to wait, and they will tell their friends and they will tell their friends’. Now I’m sure the food is great but if I had to wait two hours for a taco, or any food for that matter, anything would taste half-decent after that “This offal tastes DELICIOUS!!”
I was getting a bit hungry at this stage so when we waltzed into our next preference to discover a 2.5 hour wait, I was feeling somewhat postal. It was then that my shoe broke.
Walking around on a broken shoe and pretending that ‘there is nothing to see here people’ while your sandal threatens to take you down in the vicinity of your former place of employment and you are wanting to gnaw your own arm off does not make me a pleasant date.
My husband ushered me into a nearby shoe store that I can only describe as ‘street walker’ and after placating the sales assistant with pleas of “I don’t like bedazzled shoes” I eventually found a $15 pair at a chain store. Note: When you are on a date and your shoe breaks and you are hungry, you will pick the line that shuts down for ten minutes so someone can price check an extendable broom.
Finally we made it to a Thai place and I quickly consumed two drinks without assessing the risks for future Carli and all was right with the world. The food was good, the conversation was lovely, the eavesdropping average and the taxi ride hell. Until next time date night gods. Until next time.
Do strange things happen to you to on date nights too?