Amuse Bouche to a date…

“Would you like another drink?”, he smiles nervously while gazing at me. I clearly see that he is struggling a bit with finding something to occupy his trembling hands. He leans back onto his chair and jerks back towards the table leaning his elbows directly in front of him. Now he’s just trying to impress me with the blinding sight of his watch. Ok, he did his research. I do like a nice watch. Realizing that the act is still not producing the desired affect of me falling all over the cheap trick, he now resorts to fast talking, predominantly about himself. Something about his yacht and the captain and…yeah, I completely tune out.

Newport Beach is full of these guys…made a bit of money on the Real Estate market and ballsy enough to ask a woman like me out on a date and proceed by attempting to impress her with a whole production of inviting her to the best restaurant, ordering the most expensive bottle of wine and talking my head off about all the beauties they possess. He is clearly very nervous in my presence proven by the fast talk and the clumsy reach towards the wine which resulted in a big red stain; I slightly found that adorable but mostly sympathetic as I do tend to make most men uncomfortable. Now he shows interest in me by asking the most idiotic questions and proceeds to listen with intent. “So what do you do for fun? You must work out all the time and you should be a model!” Ok, he definitely thinks we’re on a date and this is going somewhere. Poor schmuck! All in good faith and could you bore me more?!

And in my mind this is just a warm up…a pre-date date, if you will. Kinda like taking a car for a test drive right before the big race event so I can warm up the tires. Or an amuse bouche before a 5 course meal. Just a little taste to get my appetite going. The main event is actually tomorrow, with a different guy of course. One that I hope gives me a dramatically different experience.

Now he’s trying to dazzle me with his geography knowledge, listing random countries in Europe and his villa in Tuscany that apparently I would just “fall madly in love with” when he takes me there. And I’m desperately trying to search in my brain for something I care less about. Ok, I need to ditch this bozo as I’m starting to get annoyed…Check, please!

 

About Desi Stark

All luxury beauty and lifestyle with a sprinkle of the occasional random thought and some life stories.
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