"Oh my God, I found a restaurant I want to take you to," said Darcy. "I think you'd really love it."
She then proceeded to tell me about a restaurant that sounds great indeed. Rather, it did before she uttered the sentence "All the seating is family-style."
I felt my face prune.
"Well," I sighed, "Congratulations. Welcome to the long list of women to whom I've had to say don't make me meet people."
Historically, it hasn't gone well. At best, I spend the evening glancing at my watch and calculating the absolute earliest time I can exit without seeming rude. In the meantime, oh strangers thrust into my ear by the cruel spasms of fate, tell me more about your jobs. And can I see those photos of your kids again? One so rarely sees homo sapiens these days. I'm riveted.
And attention bed-and-breakfast owners: sharing my breakfast with Bob and Jackie, office-drone parents of four from Redmond, is not a romantic getaway. It's hard time.
"Oh, we already had that talk," Darcy replied. "Teatro Zinzanni, remember?" I thought you were going to stab that marketer with your salad fork."
"Then why..?"
"I'd hoped you'd grown."
Kids today.