10.18.10

she sat by herself at table one, looking out the window, two bottles of red wine in front of her. i approached and asked if i could open one, and she looked at me unseeing, buried in her thoughts for a few seconds before answering that one was open already. i retreated, wondering if her date still to arrive was romantic or platonic, a boyfriend or blind connection. her eyes looked disappointed already after a short wait, so i hoped for her sake that he was a stand up guy that wouldn't stand her up.

he came, soon, and i returned to the table. i was surprised by his appearance; he was middle aged, balding, with unflattering mediocre frames. she was slightly younger, but attractive, blonde, wearing a wrap dress and sexy but sensible heels. my snap judgement at this point, that it was indeed a blind date, was erased when i realized their conversation was comfortable, friendly. he ordered for the two of them, an action which may come off as polite but which i expressly dislike, as it's based on the implication that the man has better taste in dining than the woman, or that he's assertive and in charge. that traditional male/female domination/submission habit has got to go.

i realized, though, as their dinner continued, that they were on equal ground. happy, dining together as a special treat, they held hands over the table, just for a minute, and i could tell they were still in love.

he ordered her a second foie gras ("my girl, she just can't get enough") and this time the gesture seemed caring, not dominating. he realized her desire and wanted to fulfill it; she protested halfheartedly, jokingly.

the night went on, the restaurant emptied slowly, and still they sat, enjoying the food slowly. both were lightly drunk on the wine and the rich food, laughing and teasing each other, making joking bets and empty promises.

after hours, the drinks gone and the final chocolate eaten, i was imagining them stumbling a few blocks away to their brownstone, making love, a night for the memory books. while clearing a table nearby, i overheard their conversation.

"when can we do this again?"

"i'm not sure". he cleared his throat, glanced at his watch. held her hand. "i'll call you a cab".

her face, just seconds before so glowing and peaceful, looked crestfallen. she re-arranged the expression to determined resignation.

they walked outside together, intimate, and he ushered her into a car outside and walked away down the sidewalk. ten minutes later he returned, shivering, and said, "i forgot my coat."

i retrieved it from the closet and handed it to him. as he put it on and turned towards the door, i saw him reach in the pocket, pulling out a ring, which he slipped on his finger before walking outside into the cold.