Secret Menus

Remember THAT scene in When Harry Met Sally? The “I’ll have what she’s having” infamous quip?

I was recently at lunch with my cousin and her family at a sidewalk cafe in Venice…(California, not Italy – although I HAVE been to Italy with this particular cousin. Milan, not Venice…but I digress.) So there we were at the sidewalk cafe called – of all things – Sidewalk Cafe.

Now, the website heralds the joint as “the ultimate Venice Beach Restaurant and Bar” and a spot “known the world over as the best place to people watch in Los Angeles.”

Nailed it.

So the tables in the dining area are really close to each other. I sat down right next to a guy, who was sitting across from a girl, with a pitcher of margaritas in between them. FORESHADOWING. As I was sitting close enough for our arm hairs to sway in each other’s breezes, (kidding, I don’t really have crazy arm hair – just a regular, healthy amount.) I could easily hear their convo. If I was listening, which, sometimes I was.

It sounded like regular getting-to-know-you kinda fodder. I guessed first date. Maybe they had mutual friends or maybe he didn’t know who the hell she was talking about. She’s a recent transplant from Seattle. He clearly works out. It was her birthday. Blah blah blah. Their convo wasn’t riveting enough to steal me away from my own table’s chats.

And then he stood up to go to the bathroom. And kissed her. On the mouth. Pretty seriously. Now I don’t know if she was expecting it, but I sure didn’t see it coming. I couldn’t even look at her because I knew I would be like OMG did that just happen to you? (with my eyes, not my mouth) And she would think I was a freak.

So then he comes back and they talk some more and blah blah blah it’s her birthday and she’ll probably just get room service for dinner. He didn’t object or offer to take her to dinner, which I’m pretty sure she was totally fishing for.

Pretty soon it was time for them to go and for me to eat my sandwich. They got up and, because of where we were sitting, they not only had to pass us, but we had a front row seat for their trip – not to the exit, but to the bathroom. FORESHADOWING.

I knew immediately. So I told my cousin. Because I’m mature like that, and I had been in those bathrooms and which one were they going to choose? The ladies is tiny. With three little stalls and a baby changing station. Not on the baby changing station!

I mentioned this was lunchtime right?

Well, I’ll be darned if sky rockets in flight afternoon delight minutes later (at least 10) they emerged from the bathroom hall. I had seriously forgotten about it, and was shocked they hadn’t left yet, because I figured I must have missed them.

She was carrying something that was probably her sweater, but could have just as easily been her dignity, picked up off the dirty bathroom floor after she dropped it there…you kno…like it was hot.

Also. I forgot to tell you guys she was wearing a romper. In my opinion, rompers lend themselves to neither quickie romance nor “wham bam thank you m’am” practicality. Do you pull it to the side like when you pee out of a one-piece bathing suit?

I realize I sound like a prude, but, in reality, I’m just a classy girl. And while I appreciate spontaneity as much as the next person (unless, I guess, this girl is the next person)…I can’t get onboard with a first date – turned – nooner. Maybe that means I’ll never succeed at online dating, but at least The Lumineers get me.

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